The Van Richten Diaries  Book 1  The Fool
by Thomas A
Summary: The early life of Rudolph Van Richten that puts him on the road to monster hunting... The story really begins in Chapter 3. Comment/Critiques welcome. Where required, Canon material copied from VR Monster Hunting Guides or the Crucible of Van Richten.
1. Chapter 1

**The Fool **

Morning - 4th Day of the 6th Month of Year 751 - Mordentshire, Mordent - Preface

The little herbalism shop was about as unassuming in appearance as any of the dozens or so of other combined merchant establishments and living quarters that populated this portion of the city of Mordentshire. To the casual passerby the building itself looked well maintained, though by this time of the year one could see that by next spring it would certainly require a new coat of paint on the eaves. And the left most of four window shutters was made of wood that had dried out more in the early months of this summer than it should have and was now beginning to separate quite significantly at the seams. It would have to be reworked by a professional carpenter, but once again that task could wait until fall.

The sign, however, that hung above the door and swung in response to each gust of wind that blew off the Sea of Sorrows and down the street was still bright and clear in displaying the words 'herbalist shop' above a picture of a set of spice rack type jars that themselves sat upon a stack of books. Below this advertising montage and almost as an afterthought the words 'research center' had also been added to the sign below the picture of the books. The bright paints on the sign was demonstration enough to those who lived or spent time in Mordentshire that the owner had commissioned and received this sign sometime in this past few months for colors this bright rarely lasted beyond a single year in this land of rain and gloom.

And that was exactly the type of conditions the sign was battling this day as it swayed back and forth in response to the storm just beginning to blow in from the sea. If anyone would have chosen to stop long enough and look closely they would have noted the face of the sign was currently covered in rivulets of water that had formed from the heavy mist that hung in the air. But such determined analysis was unlikely to occur this day. While it was not actually raining yet, this haze had been hanging over the town since well before dawn and now by the tenth bell of morning it was obvious that only those who absolutely had to be outside were going to do any shopping on this day. That still boded well for the bakeries whose bread ovens were churning out their warm products to entice those with a chill, and for the farmer's groceries that still made sure milk and cheese and produce stocks were all available for purchase since people had to eat and these were all staples of normal diet in the land of Mordent. Even the butchers were doing a slow but still respectable level of business this morning considering the weather, but then again what were warm bread, butter, and cheese without a slice of salted ham or bacon to go with it on a day such as this one?

But for the herbalism shop, the chance of customers this morning was unlikely at best partly due to the weather which appeared to be a late spring holdover of the storms that had been common over the preceding months. Being nearly the start of summer, the storm would also likely not be the precursor to a flood of customers seeking remedies for coughs and colds as it would in the months of late fall through mid spring. In a way that was good because those particular supplies of medicines had been well reduced in their stockpiles over the past eight months or so and it would likely be another month perhaps before the suppliers and their caravans would be able to start restoring these inventories to their proper levels.

Medicinal needs aside the shops other frequent customers were scholars, warriors, and professional treasure seekers, called thieves by everyone else, who used the shop not only for necessary supplies of their trade, but also since its second floor of the three was a dedicated library full of research material on the strange, forgotten, or deadliest aspects of the Lands of the Mist, of which Mordent was but a single land. These 'adventurers,' the term often spoken of with a hint of contempt by the average citizen, came to the herbal shop looking for insight into the mysteries of the land or to barter off goods and especially knowledge they had acquired recently themselves. Unless they had a reputation with the establishment for less than honest dealings, such folk were welcomed with open arms and offered to share a glass of chilled wine or mug of warm tea, depending upon the season, as they related their recent adventures to the owner or staff of the shop. Other such businesses in the area were happy to take the coins such groups had recovered, but were still quick to speak poorly of these customers once they were beyond earshot.

Adventurers were a rare breed however and on a day such as this one it would likely take a near emergency for any to come seeking the knowledge stored in the thousands of books and journals neatly arranged and catalogued on the shelves of the library. Instead most would see this as an excuse to sleep in or spend the day recovering with a fine bottle and a good meal at whatever relaxation establishments they found that catered to their kind. Perhaps this afternoon would change some minds, that is if the storm blew itself out, though from the looks of such things that was unlikely to happen anytime in the immediate future.

Inside the shop though the staff still went through the required morning processes first to prepare for daily business and then to keep the shop properly cleaned and presentable as the owner expected of them. The fact that the owner himself had disappeared a year ago and not been heard of by any of his regular contacts did not seem to deter the staff at all, at least to the casual observer. And the 'staff' had every intention of maintaining this façade as long as was required regardless of the personal fears they shared over the unknown fate of the owner who was also their mentor.

Gennifer and Laurie Weathermay-Foxgrove were twins and currently the only staff the herbalism shop had. The nineteen year olds were the nieces of the famous, many in Mordentshire said 'infamous,' George Weathermay, often called the premier monster hunter in the Land of the Mists. Stories of his conquests over creatures of darkness were almost as spoken of in this town as were the stories of how he had put aside his responsibilities for the management of the family business, passing it on to his siblings and their spouses, in order to free himself from these responsibilities so he could go forth and chase dark things that were better left alone. Many of these same voices whispered that it was beginning to appear that his two nieces seemed to be on an occupational course of self-destruction to follow in their uncle's footsteps rather than becoming proper ladies and wives like society expected of them. Why neither of the two young ladies were even betrothed yet which was nearly unheard of any other girls born into such privilege and good family names.

Had the girls been unsightly to look upon or their manners and etiquette deemed to be lacking, then of course the negotiations of their betrothals would have included an increased dowry, more so than perhaps the norm, but those of society in Mordentshire had to grudgingly admit that both girls were beauties and their speech and manners were without valid challenge. If the girls had any fault, besides their adventurous nature for which their uncle was universally blamed for putting such thoughts in their heads, then it was that both were undeniably more educated that any of their current crop of rivals or likely suitors. While most girls of their age knew the home arts and perhaps higher hobbies such as painting or music, the twins had an impressive insight of history, religion, mythology, geography, and even medicine. These were so prominent that more than a few prospective suitors who had put their hat in the ring for their attentions had retreated after a single conversation when they found themselves unable to even understand the subjects the girls were speaking of.

While Uncle George may have inadvertently encouraged the girls to pursue unladylike occupations through the fireside tales of his adventures that the girls had grown up with, their blame for their education was firmly placed by the society members of Mordentshire at the feet of their mentor and the herbalism shop's owner; Doctor Rudolph Van Richten.

Those who knew the infamous doctor only though the stories of the evil creatures he had defeated in his long war on those beasts who stalked the night would likely have expected him to look as imposing as the famous George Weathermay. Those who knew of him primarily through his scholarly treaties on the various types of base evils that populated the Lands of the Mists and more specifically on how to ultimately destroy such evils, usually envisioned him as a book bound educator who works were based solely on theory, conjecture, and the experiences of foolhardy adventurers.

And those who actually met the doctor in person found the truth lay somewhere between these two extremes, though on first appearances certainly the latter seemed the more dominant. A man of education and thought the doctor had come to Mordentshire years before when his name was only starting to be recognized commonly beyond the borders of the land of Darkon where he had been born and lived the first four decades of his life. While the upper crusts of society looked down on adventurers in general, the doctor was not made in this mold and his first introduction into society generated such a volley of conversation that the good doctor became the unofficial guest of honor at many upper crust affairs. In fact more than one society function had its annual date changed at the last moment when it was learned that the doctor would be unable to attend and then was rescheduled instead for a time that just happened to be convenient to his calendar.

A small portion of the very highest elements of society found his ability to steal the spotlight from them to be insulting, and they tried to use his constant work association with 'adventurers' as a black mark against him. That worked for a while until someone within the second strata of society with their own agenda against these whisperers made known that his other occupation also regularly required him to treat sick people as well, and this was seen as a noble endeavor by most compassionate people. In the end most neutral observers were forced to admit that who someone associated with was a function of the occupation they had and not so much a free choice to make. Since none could fault Van Richten's desires to heal both people and the land by removing diseases and the blight of evil, none could truly fault the tools he had at his disposal to use to achieve these goals.

More than a few members of society, those who still relied upon a steady income of trade rather than inherited wealth, actually strongly supported the good doctor's activities and were happy he had made his home here in their city. The adventurers and scholars his second occupation tended to attract did spend money during their stays. And each year as the good doctor's reputation grew larger, businesses in Mordentshire saw their yearly incomes increase right along with it. None of them attributed this increase solely to their most famous, some still said notorious, citizen but none were eager to see him leave their town anytime soon either. So when the occasional unplanned for and unfortunate incident occurred here locally that could be linked to the doctor or those who came seeking his knowledge these occurrences were overlooked and just considered a cost of doing business.

A year ago the doctor had departed without leaving much in the way of an itinerary of where he was headed or when he planned to return. This was in no way a unique event and had occurred often on roughly a quarterly basis over the past nearly thirty or so years since Van Richten had moved to Mordentshire. Those society members who learned of this departure rearranged their party plans for a latter time in the season, hoping that perhaps their eventual event would be the one the doctor chose to attend upon his return and regale the other attendees with the latest news on his life. The word 'adventure' was never used in polite society to refer to the good doctor's absences. Adventures were to closely associated with adventurers and only the Weathermay family willingly invited such people to their homes.

When the season changed and the doctor had not yet returned, his absence was noted, especially by those who had been putting off events in anticipation of his return. One family was even known to have pushed off their daughter's sixteenth birthday for three months in a row because they had hoped to use her coming out party as the reason for their invitation to the good doctor to attend. These parents eventually gave up their wait and held the birthday party in conjunction with a rather rushed betrothal and wedding shower. The fact that the young couple's baby was born seven moths later, a full two months early so it was said by the family, was taken to heart by others as why not to schedule all events on the doctor's itinerary.

By the time winter had arrived and there was still no sign or word from the doctor quiet speculation began to be whispered that perhaps the invincible Doctor Rudolph Van Richten had met up with an untimely end. No one of course dared to say so directly to the Weathermay-Foxgrove twins who were managing the doctor's store, though a few whispers to that effect seemed to them to be intentionally loud enough for the girls to overhear. Neither sister though showed any concern. Both proclaimed regularly that Doctor Van Richten had gone off for longer periods of time in the past and would undoubtedly return or at least send word soon. In fact this declaration was true, as some knew the doctor recently had spent nearly a year travelling with a gypsy that resulted eventually into his published Guide to the Vistani.

By the first days of spring when no sign or word of the good doctor had been received a confident George Weathermay told his nieces that he was getting cabin fever after having spent a full season with family and now looked forward to heading out on the road once more. When asked where he intended to travel the elder Weathermay only responded that his plans were fluid but that he might try to catch up to the good doctor wherever he was and share a few stories over a good bottle of the family brandy. After preparing in secret for two days on the second floor of the herbalism shop George kissed Gennifer and Laurie on the foreheads each and said there was no reason at all for them to worry. He ended by saying that he and the doctor would see the girls again soon before the elder Weathermay was once again heading off into the wilds that he so loved. Neither girl failed to note their uncle was armed with his best armor and his most potent weapons even though he had told them that there was 'no reason at all for them to worry.'

Now by midsummer true worry was beginning to set it with the twins. There had still been no word from the doctor himself, and while Uncle George regularly sent them updates on his condition and location, which seemed to have crossed most of the major lands of the core in a mere three months, his veiled questions on whether their had been any word on Doctor van Richten left little doubt that the great adventurer was now actively yet still unsuccessfully seeking his friend as well.

Laurie and Gennifer did what they could during this time period, namely they kept the good doctor's store open and available to the adventurers who needed its knowledge to do the doctor's work. They also politely began to question those who came to the shop from far off lands if they had heard anything of the doctor's latest adventurers even though only a few had. This piecemeal information was quickly written down and dispatched to the next location their uncle was planning to visit in hopes it might put him on their mentor's trail.

It was the endless waiting for word of his condition that the twins found the hardest to deal with. While the girls did not mind putting on a show of a lack of concern to anyone who now asked after the doctor's whereabouts or inquired after his health, the girls could not lie to each other when they were alone. This was especially true on cold and rainy days like the current one where it was unlikely they would see any customers and be distracted from such thoughts for a few more hours at least, if at all today.

The doctor had been quick to say that idle hands are the fiend's playground so both young ladies made sure to keep active to the extent that goal was possible. In truth though one could only dust the same shelves so many times a day before the mind began to wander and both girls had reached that point for this day almost an hour ago. Neither of the twins was one for meaningless blather either since they were constantly subjected to this when forced to spend time with their peers. Instead it fell to Gennifer to come up with a reasonable solution to their boredom.

"Laurie what do you think Uncle George was looking for up in the library during the two days before his departure?" Gennifer asked aloud mostly to break the gloomy mood in the herbalism shop.

"Probably looking for a clue as to where the doctor went off to." Laurie said surprised that such a thought had not been as obvious to her more studious and analytical sister.

"But the library is not where Doctor Van Richten kept his personal notes or plans until he was certain of the facts within them." Gennifer replied. "All his private documents he kept up in his apartment and we have already gone through all those and know there were no clues to his planned whereabouts in any we could find."

Laurie paused as she considered exactly what her sister was saying. It was true that the doctor had not kept his private investigation notes with all the other data he had collected for he often felt it was either unready to be shared or far too dangerous for most adventurers. Uncle George had been with the girls when they had made a search of the doctor's personal documents and had also agreed that none they found seemed to be of a pressing nature, rather they represented only a lot of open and ongoing research. So why then had Uncle George spent two whole days on the library level where only documents open to anyone and everyone were kept? And why then did he suddenly have the inspiration to go 'take a walk' around and look for the doctor unless he had come up with some idea of where to begin his search. That meant to Laurie that there was something on the second level of the building that Uncle George had found interesting enough to be worthy of investigation, even if the trail he followed so far had not panned out.

As the girls looked at each other the same thoughts crossed their minds. While Uncle George was a great hero in his own rights and had brought down many dark evils that plague these lands on his own, he was not nearly the researcher that the doctor was, or in truth even equal to the girls. It was not inconceivable that had he actually found some intriguing hint to the doctor's location on the second floor, but in doing so he might have inadvertently overlooked a critical clue or two. But the girls would likely catch these insinuations since the doctor had been their educator.

Without a word to each other the twins quickly ascended the stairs to the second floor, confident in the fact that the little bell the doctor had installed on the shop's door would ring loud enough to announce any customers who arrived at the store. But upon reaching the second floor and looking truly at the daunting task before them the twins paused.

The library easily contained thousands of volumes and scrolls that the doctor had either collected on his many travels or those that had been traded for from other successful adventurers. It seemed almost every book seller in the Lands of Mist likewise knew those subject areas the doctor was interested in and often kept aside for him such works that came into their possession and soon thereafter sent word of their acquisition so that he could chose to purchase them even before they went on display. Also more than one family library had been donated to the doctor in honor of his achievements which meant he had painstakingly reviewed them all personally or had his protégés do so for him. This way the valuable ones could be put aside for future review and the others could be sold off. The girls knew that one such family donation had filled three full wagons and taken more than a full day to move from these conveyances to the second floor by six well paid young men and women!

This task before the girls though only intimidated the pair for a moment since they knew that if their uncle had somehow waded through this mess and found a potential clue in only two days then the two of them would likewise be able to do the same in less than half the time since there were double the number and both were far more familiar with the layout and contents of the library than Uncle George was. The duo started by applying the first lesson their mentor had drilled repeatedly into them at the beginning of any task; namely to step back and get a good look at the problem and the current situation before deciding upon a course of action to follow.

The girls went to work assessing the scale of the task and where best to begin by carefully wandering through each section and looking for possible clues as to what had caught their uncle's interest. Some areas of the library were easy to dismiss as the amount of dust collected on some individual tomes or even complete shelves showed that the contents had not been disturbed in a very long time. Unlike his apothecary Doctor Van Richten did not mind if his books had a layer of dust upon them. Another one of his truisms tended to be that the best secrets were often contained in such dusty old books.

But while this neglect was able to reduce the size and scope of the problem by half that still left a few thousand books as potential sources for the solution they sought; a task still beyond the two girl's immediate capabilities. While Gennifer continued her detailed examination to further reduce the number, Laurie sat down on one of the reading benches by a window. The enormity of the task remaining before the pair seemed to deflate the momentary feeling of hope she had felt when the girls had discussed it on the floor below. Laurie lowered her head to rest in her hands and looked down at her feet trying to find the strength in herself to get back up and start searching once more with her sister.

The fairly new scratches of wood between her shoes immediately caught Laurie's attention for it potentially boded ill. She quickly kneeled down and was thankful to see the scratches had been made by moving the heavy bench and not by rodents. This meant that neither the old books nor the materials stored downstairs were in any immediate threat of being consumed by unwanted guests in the building.

These scratches though intrigued her for she could not immediately find a reason they would be here. The bench was well situated where it normally sat so that light from the windows made it a perfect place to read during the daylight hours. Furthermore none of the shelves were so tall as to require the bench to be used as a step ladder to reach some rare or forgotten volume on a top shelf. So why then move the bench? The only other reasonable answer is that the bench itself was in the way.

With a bit of a grunt of effort Laurie pivoted the heavy and padded piece of wooden furniture out of the way so she might see what lay beneath it. Sure enough while the wooden slat floor below it appeared normal to the casual observed, a single scratch, possibly made by a dagger tip right next to a plain looking knot of wood was evidence enough of more surprises to come to the trained investigator.

Laurie was not carrying her own dagger at the moment. It was currently sitting under the counter downstairs in case any unscrupulous individual tried to depart the store without paying. But like a good student of the doctor she did have two long hair pins as backup weapons that could function as small poniards in a flash if self defense were required. And when battle was not imminent, they did make a stylish statement that was all her own.

Pulling one of these from her hair Laurie pried out the knot of wood and then after first testing the hole with the same hair pin to ensure no traps were present, a skill again acquired through the doctor's thorough training, she inserted her index finger and easily lifted up a well disguised and hinged piece of false floor, revealing a treasure trove of more than a score of neatly arranged and similar looking books. Not surprisingly there seemed even more such volumes in a second and perhaps a third row below those.

"Gennifer I found something." Laurie called to her sister who had already been approaching anyway, somehow sensing her twin was becoming excited due to the empathy the two shared. Before touching any of the volumes the girls looked to the books and noted that only the very last one on the right appeared to have been disturbed in the recent past.

Carefully so not to disturb the order the books had been placed in the girls slowly withdrew that single volume and opened it carefully. They were immediately pleased to see the all too familiar penmanship of their mentor. And after reading aloud just a few of the first paragraphs the girls realized what they had found, though Laurie still felt the need to confirm this vocally to her sister and get her agreement as well.

"These are Doctor Van Richten's personal journals!" She said excitedly. While both girls knew the doctor was always scribing notes in similar volumes, especially right after completing one of his night hunting forays, neither had ever thought to ask what had became of these books when he completed one. It seemed a strange oversight on their part they now realized, especially when the answer to this unasked question now lay before them.

The fact that only the last volume showed evidence of being disturbed also further confirmed the girls' hypothesis. Uncle George had obviously known of this secret stash and had come up here looking for a clue to the good doctor's whereabouts. But since he was a warrior more so than a scholar he focused solely on the last volume, expecting since it was the most recent it would contain the best chance of a clue to the doctor's whereabouts.

The twins though saw this situation in just the opposite way since the doctor had been working on filling a different volume before he had departed. It was therefore unlikely that this completed one held actual the answers their uncle suspected it did. Once again the doctor's teachings seemed to provide the girls with the best possible solution to this situation.

When hunting evil creatures of darkness the doctor often said that only by coming to understand where the creatures had come from and what they had experienced could a hunter truly understand what the beast was likely to do next. While neither girl would dare to place their mentor in the same category of monsters the doctor hunted, the lesson's general concept seemed to apply in this situation as well.

Carefully so as to not disturb the ultimate order, the girls emptied the hidden space of all its books and transferred them in reverse order to an empty book crate that was still a hold over from the last donated shipment the library had received. Now the bottom most books from the cubby, which were the oldest, were now on top and immediately available to be reviewed. And through this method as each volume was finished they could with little effort return it to the hiding spot in the same place it had rested.

While the crate was now filled with something like three score of works, the challenge these books presented was far less daunting than the few thousand or so they had been facing minutes before. And in this case since the books were related to the good doctor, the chances seemed better that the clues needed to find their friend and teacher, if such things even existed, would be found in these books rather than others he himself had not written. More than once Doctor Van Richten had during his lessons grieved over creatures that had escaped him in the past, so it was not unreasonable that one of these might be the reason for the doctor's absence, either in his continued dogged pursuit of the monster or perhaps by his incarceration by such a creature. Neither girl was ready or willing to believe yet that so great a man could have been taken from them permanently.

It was now well past the noon tolling of the great bell and there was still no signs of a break in the storm so the girls took the first volume back downstairs to begin their own search for the doctor in the only way they knew how. According to his last missive in two weeks Uncle George would be stopping back in Mordentshire. The girls wanted to be ready to present him with as many good leads to the doctor's whereabouts as they were able providing of course if his own searches had been unsuccessful.

Gennifer picked up the familiar dusting rag they used on the jars while Laurie sat down to read aloud. Since she had been the one to discover the hidden treasure trove it seemed only fair she be the one to share the books contents. Besides Gennifer was now too excited by the possibility of finding their beloved doctor to be able to sit still and read. As she began to lift each jar and run the soft cloth to remove any nonexistent dust once more Laurie's comforting voice began to roll through the herbalism shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fool**

_**22nd Day of the 10th Month of Year 742 - Mordentshire, Mordent - Chapter 1**_

It has been thirty six years since I began these journals and other than a few notable exceptions they have remained unchanged since the day when I first penned them. I take more than a little pride in the fact that I record the truth of my experiences, especially those that are personally painful or which place my actions in a less than flattering light. I find this is important for if one day others read these they will see I am neither the foolhardy adventurer nor the omnificent hunter of evil which I have been alternately portrayed to be. I am in truth merely a man who has made more than my share of mistakes in my pursuit to make our world just a little bit better for others.

But this volume of my journals, my first one I ever wrote, now appears in hindsight to require an update if it is to truly reflect a full accounting of the events that led me to this place and time. In the past only that period of proceedings that are recorded and take up the final third of this book or so had been saved for posterity. But recently I have come to suspect that much more of my early life is required if I have any hope to honestly explain all the events that followed thoroughly.

In reworking on this memoire I have been lead to an interesting philosophical question. Are we merely a result of our experiences and therefore forever locked onto some path based on the decisions we made throughout our lives or is life instead chaos and anarchy where one's future events are only barely influenced by the others that preceded it?

Of course each of these arguments has much to speak for and against it. I can just as easily cite examples from my life that seem to prove each side. But by having such examples of each perhaps neither one is easily seen as the wholly correct answer except perhaps to those who are predisposed or committed to one or the other side of the argument already.

I must admit that I do not like the idea that we are only a summation of our experiences for that seems to me to indicate we are without the freewill to change our situation and instead are merely puppets acting out the will created inadvertently in many cases by our own history. I like to believe my choices are my own to make.

In contrast there is much that objectively can be said for this train of reasoning. For example I am not a fan of peas because I was not fond of the way my mother cooked them when I was a child. And from this experience even today I still find I am unable to eat them without feeling complete distaste at this activity. In essence the past now controls my future.

But oddly enough I truly enjoy pea soup. The taste especially with warm bread is truly a delight I savor especially on those cold winter days when the soup has sat simmering for many hours over a slow cooking fire. So I must argue honestly that it is not the peas themselves that I dislike but rather an experience of my past that makes them in their more natural state seem distasteful to me.

Even knowing this and fully acknowledging these events as the source of my discomfort, when I go to exert my freewill and eat peas anyway, they still seem distasteful to me and I find I cannot finish them. This leaves me to wonder then does my past experiences completely overpower my wisdom, desires, and freewill? Based on the evidence I would have to say this is so at least in the case of my desire for peas.

But what then is the validity of the alternative argument? Does chaos truly hold sway in our lives and our laws are merely a defense mechanism of the human species that our orderly driven minds required to not be pushed to true insanity by the enormity of the idea that our lives may indeed serve no true purpose? Few of course would be the religious faiths that would proscribe to such a belief for if all is chaos and therefore actions have no consequence, what then is the reason for any of us to be good? Would not it better serve our individual purposes to be greedy and take as much for ourselves and care less of others in such an environment? How could anyone fault us for the same rules would apply to them as well? And those who fell along the way would simply be the members of the herd culled out by nature, unable to adapt to the changes in their environment as rapidly as the rest of us. Would that not make the human species better able to survive in the long run?

This philosophy also has its numerous obvious flaws as well. Previous events undoubted play some role upon future actions based on my own history I know this all too well in my life. I can look back presently from where I stand today and see clearly that the events at the end of this volume your are now reading are directly responsible for the deaths over time of many of my friends during the past nearly two score of years. They also have a significant role as well in my own survival of situations that looking back objectively should have been impossible. Knowing all I know now how can I not say all of us are merely pawns being moved along a chess board called life by forces beyond our cognizance or even ability to fully comprehend? I fear I will wake one day to find indeed we are marionettes made to dance on stage for the entertainment of some higher being.

When I originally penned this volume decades ago I was most firmly entrenched in the position that we are free willed creatures who have a significant level of control over our lives and the choices we make and hence maintain responsibility for those decisions. I believe that many of the dark evils I have hunted and destroyed over time made their own choices in life that led them to what they ultimately became. And therefore my destruction of these beings was a suitable punishment of justice for all the evils that they were responsible for in life and some cases in death.

I disliked considering back then the alternative train of thought in relation to these beings, the one that says they were not responsible for their actions. Because if this is true then my own actions by destroying them casts me into the similar light of being a monster every bit as dark and evil as those I proclaimed my enemies to be when I destroyed them.

Now though after a recent year of nearly continuous travel, along with a period of additional time to further reflect upon my own past I feel my outlook has changed more to accept the idea that perhaps I am being controlled by powers unknown and that my supposed free will is merely an entertaining illusion I am allowed to maintain for myself. I truly hope this is not so for like I said not only does it allow for far more evil to be easily explained away under 'the demon made me do it' type of arguments, but is also means some greater agenda is at play in the world in which we all exist and to which most if not all of us know nothing about.

In rewriting this volume I have tried to be honest to both philosophies rather than bias the reader to my personal beliefs. I have accordingly added events from earlier in my youth that I had never before this year considered having any basis upon my work as a hunter of those evils that all too frequently prowl our lands. I have recorded them faithfully as I recall them in order to leave to you the future reader the ability to decide for yourself if they were just random events of life or instead sequential and necessary acts in the same grand play that led me to where I am today.

I ask only that when you come to your final decision to let me know as well for I would be happy to debate the logic of your arguments and perhaps find my own answers along the way.

So where did my path of the man you see before you today actually begin? I used to say my course today began with events that occurred in the fall of the year 706, some thirty five years after my own birth. But looking back now perhaps they started in year 671 when I was born the only child to a well off merchant importer named Otto Van Richten of the village of Rivalis, Darkon and his young bride of two years. Or perhaps my story should begin with their birth, or even those of my grandparents who I can not recall as anything more than just feelings since they had died before I can remember meeting them.

Truly I know not which makes the appropriate start for this journey so instead I will select those experiences that at this point of my life when looking back I think may have had a bearing upon the events to come in later volumes. I will conversely leave unrecorded others that I think would be meaningless to you the reader. But one never knows what the future holds, the Vistani being a possible exception to that general rule of course. Perhaps in another decade of living I may come back to this volume once more with the desire to add more such events to make the record complete. I can only say I will remain honest in recording the importance of events to the best of my own understanding and beg your forgiveness if in reflection I was found to be in error.

With this principle as my guide let me turn your attention to the year 681 and specifically to a young boy ten years of age and his best friend…

**_Rudolph Van Richten _**

**_22nd Day of the 10th Month of Year 742_**

**_Mordentshire, Mordent_**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Summer of Year 681 - Staunton Bluffs, Darkon - Chapter 2_**

My father was a well off merchant importer and exporter of goods within our land of Darkon and spent much of late spring all the way through to mid-autumn travelling from community to community taking the goods of one village and selling them in another where the need for such items was evident. Darkon is a land populated by many peoples and none of the communities is actually self-sufficient regardless of what they might try to portray.

For example there are villages primarily populated by the stout dwarven folk who are excellent miners and metal workers by trade. But while their talents in these vital areas provides them with the necessary means to be gainfully employed, even dwarves do not eat coal or iron ore or the metal implements such raw materials produce. This is not to say that dwarves have not tried their hand at growing crops or raising animals, but in truth they will grudging admit that their skills in these areas are limited compared to other races such as humans and halflings.

The elves of Darkon pride themselves on being able to sustain themselves on the natural bounty of the forests and in truth they are in fact fairly self reliant through this lifestyle. But there is not a community of elves within the borders of my homeland that will not willingly trade animal skins and wooden goods that they produce for the metal arrowheads and implements which they cannot but which are made by humans or dwarves. Forge work and blacksmithing is not unknown among the elves but those that pursue these skills are seen as nearly mythical members of the community since their race is not predisposed to such work and often face outright hostility since such continuous hot fire in a wooded and often dry environment has the potential to lead to some fairly disastrous results at times.

While each race has its normal prejudices against outsiders, humans as the predominant race of Darkon are at least tolerated by all the other races which allowed honest men like my father, a man I must admit of great insight where business opportunities existed, to make the necessary connections and friendships, another skill he excelled at, to allow for such trading. And in the process of taking goods from one community to another he made a tidy profit along the way that allowed my mother and myself to live in a relative level of comfort that while not to the level of rich, was at least enough to see to our needs and many of our wants.

On the summer that I turned ten, my father decided that I would begin to accompany him upon his travels. According to him it was so that he could prepare me to take over the business one day but in truth I must admit that it was likely some attempt to be kind to my mother. Those of you who know me now may be surprised to learn I was something of a rapscallion in my youth. I think my father decision for my company had more to do with the fact that last year I had inadvertently redirected the flow of a local pond into our family vegetable cellar to prove it could indeed hold the full quantity of water that had also been the previous home to numerous fish, frogs, and snakes. The fact that not only was I correct that the cellar could hold that quantity of water, fish, frogs, and snakes but also that in the process I had won a rather nice wooden toy dagger from my best friend Eldrenn Van Dorn did not seem enough of a valid reason to impress my mother when she found our supper supplies submerged under pond water.

So there I was under the watchful guidance of my father experiencing the roads and travels of a true merchant for the first time in my life. At my side was my best friend Eldrenn as well whose parent graciously agreed to let accompany me, since he had won the dagger back a month later in some bet that I can only recall involved lit candles in his house and that the roof took a full week to repair afterwards.

Eldrenn's father was a silversmith in the village of Rivalis where we all lived and also one of father's best human suppliers he knew of to provide such goods. As we left our home village and made our way east, our wagon held a few of his pieces in a secret compartment, the most notably being a well made silver tea set that my father expected he would easily get at least three times what Eldrenn's father expected it would fetch in the capital city of Il' Aluk. Along with these secreted items we also had a wagon full of fine woolen blankets and two cases of a local wine vintage that were always snapped up by inns along the way.

The three of us rarely made more than ten miles of travel in any given day and my father was often well satisfied with just half that. In part this was due to patches of rough terrain in my homeland but more often it was due to the friendly connections my father had grown in every little village and stopover we passed through. Even if he could not convince the locals to purchase anything we were currently hauling my father did take orders for goods they did have need for along with picking up a few items here and there he was certain he could sell off at stop on the road ahead.

In every one of these stops though there was at least one farmer or merchant who insisted that we three spend the night in their home rather than be put up in the local inns or hostels other road travelers were consigned to. Normally these also came with meals that far exceeded the local traveler's fare as well. What I learned in this part of the first year was that one can never overestimate the usefulness of making friends in any lands through which you travelled for often the minor kindnesses you were forced to offer were paid back many times over in retrospect.

Being in Darkon, my father made sure to never still be traveling once night fell. On occasions where we were prevented from moving on to the next village because of weather, my father insisted on paying for his fare and lodgings with those we stayed with so as to not give any indication of taking their generosity for granted. And by the end of the first month I had more new aunts and uncles looking out for my wellbeing than I had ever expected to have.

In truth I had only a single aunt by blood whose desire to look out for my health and welfare was consigned to filling my mouth with various herbal remedies to which she swore to if I dared to sneeze or cough in her presence. While none of these concoctions ever killed me, I cannot remember a single one that lived up to her boasts either.

I mentioned that my father always ensured that we never travelled at night or in any form of darkness such as storms. If we were late leaving due to business venture discussions we would spend a second night rather than chance getting caught between villages in the hours of darkness.

If you readers are from some land other than Darkon I suspect you might assume that my father feared bandits, thieves, and highwaymen when carrying a wagon full of goods, not to mention whatever coinage profits he had made to this point. In truth Darkon is almost free from such scourges by the very nature of our land since such men and women tend to operate best only in the hours of darkness and this makes their occupation far more hazardous in Darkon than most other lands.

In my homeland the hours between dusk and dawn are owned by the undead such as zombies, ghouls, and a host of other such creatures that prowl the countryside in search of whatever it is such creatures desire or else out performing evil tasks for their even more evil masters. While there may be some bandits from outside our borders who come to Darkon expecting easy pickings, these uniformed underworld members last here only as long as it takes them to realize their error and flee back to their own homeland away from the shuffling undead, or to become their victims.

Except on the rarest of occasions such creatures avoided the centers of population in Darkon, and when they did not it was almost always at the behest of their masters that they came to such places. There are of course exceptions to this rule. I know for example that the sewers beneath Il' Aluk have their share of such creatures but since the sun rarely if ever reaches these places and normal citizen have no reason to seek these hidden underground pathways out either, there is a general agreement between the two groups not to violate the others' territory.

So as I said Eldrenn and I got to experience much of the wonder of the Darkon countryside without worries for our health since my father was not only an accomplished traveler but also knew exactly how far he needed to go each and every day during his multiple month travels and still make it back to our home town before the snows of winter would begin to fly. Being boys we took advantage of the times my father was dealing with his customers to do some additional explorations of these locations we had been brought to. This was allowed by my father as long as we did not get too far away where we could scamper back if we found some sort of trouble. In truth since most of the villages were at most two or four dozen structures within the village proper, and that number often including outhouses, there was not much potential to be of real concern to my ever watchful father.

As I said Eldrenn and were both aware of the undead that did not sleep as restfully in our land as they were supposed to and often spent our time speaking to others in the village about such things since it is a common subject of discussion in Darkon. For those who know me now, please do not assume that my inquiries back then were anything remotely similar to the investigations that I accomplish today. My modern questioning sessions have been developed painstakingly over the years I spent hunting evil creatures and most questions are the results of learning a hard lesson and now making sure not to miss asking for a key piece of information before putting my own life or those of my companions in any additional danger.

The questions that we asked that year were more geared toward local myths and legends for I must admit that both Eldrenn and I enjoyed being frightened by such tales. I can say with absolute certainty that there is not a village anywhere in my homeland that the locals do not have multiple stories of hauntings or dangerous creatures that prowl the wilds just beyond the village limits proper. All such locations have at least one proverbial haunted house, tomb, or other structure somewhere close by. And many villages go the extra mile and have so many such cases of these events that yearly travelers are unlikely to hear the same story two years in a row.

Thankfully most of these situations are easily explained by the more skeptical members of the local community as natural events or otherwise human influenced occurrences rather than the work of the undead, even if the other locals refuse to believe such. I can say no matter its location, every town is proud of its own unique history and in Darkon such undead monsters and other such creatures often add this colorful local flavor for those who pass through these locations.

In almost every town I must admit we did hear stories from locals that were not easily laughed off or explained. More than once my stalwart companion and I actually entered the abandoned local residence that was believed to be haunted in search of proof and while thankfully no ghost in those locations decided to make its presence fatally known to us, we did experience our share of cold spots and odd noises which two naïve ten year olds were unable to explain rationally and quickly to ourselves. In those cases we relied upon our feet to serve us well.

We had been on the road for over a month when my father's planned course brought us to the small village of Staunton Bluffs in eastern Darkon. The village itself was home to a general mix of humans and elves and was almost the natural dividing migratory line which the two communities each had unconsciously agreed to. There was also a fairly high population of half elves which to my naïve eye meant nothing at the time but to me today speaks well of the general agreement of the two races to comingle.

Upon reaching the town and learning from my father that we would accept the offer of a local tailor to dine and stay with his family this evening, Eldrenn and I were off on nearly eight hours of our explorations since the sun had not even reached the midday point as of yet. We learned almost immediately that unlike other such villages we had so far visited, Staunton Bluffs actually had a cemetery in the very heart of the city where as all the other towns usually located this necessary facility at least a half mile or more away from the living residents for safety sake.

The reason for this standard of course goes back to the restlessness of the dead in my homeland. Most towns decided that if the corpses they were interring into the ground were going to rise back up, it would be better if they do so some distance from where the living would be forced to observe or potentially become victims for these creatures. All in all this is a practice I continue to support as a rational one for everyone concerned.

In Staunton Bluffs though the dead were buried beneath stone markers like in other parts of the country, but here the bodies were always burned to ash first. This practice seems to me to have grown out of the excessive availability of wood for fuel along with the fact that elves in particular find the undead to be an abhorrent blight on the world's natural order. Regardless of the source I can say the practice has successfully kept the town cemetery from becoming home to zombies, skeletons, ghouls, or any other form of undead that requires human remains as a starting point.

One might think that Staunton Bluffs had found the secret to a peaceful life without the menace of undead, but that would be a false assumption I assure you. While cremation prevents certain types of undead it is totally ineffective in preventing other types however, specifically those that did not require a body as a starting source.

As Eldrenn and I wandered through the village asking our questions and investigating what this town had to offer two ten year old boys our attention was eventually drawn to a small crowd that had formed up not far from the walls of the cemetery itself. As crowds of people during peak work hours always meant entertainment in our eyes we rant to the spot and pushed our way forward so we might see what was holding the attention of so large a group of villagers in the middle of a business day.

Being small we were able to nudge our way politely through the group of onlookers until finally there was no one standing before us and blocking our view. What we found in the midst of that circle were three brightly painted wagons and a troop of a dozen or so similarly brightly dressed individuals playing for the crowd's entertainment.

Two young men juggled nearly a dozen flashing knives between them, while spinning, twirling, and leaping at the same time, never letting any blade out of their control and never breaking the rhythm or pattern created by a third older man playing on a violin to establish as the tempo for this event. The blades were all identical and well crafted and even though they constantly moved and prevented a detailed examination of them, on certain arcs of their trajectory between the two jugglers sunlight would just catch the edge of a blade now and then as if to tell us these were real weapons not just blunted pieces of metal used as props for this demonstration.

The receiving man of course always caught the dagger hilt in his open palm as if it were a loadstone and forced by magnetism to appear there. A quick deft toss would move this weapon then to his other hand where he would catch the bladed end between two fingers before launching the knife back into space and eventually to the waiting hands of his partner. Sometimes the blades flew in parallel flowing lines like two deadly channels of a river, only this one of flashing steel. At other times the men shifted the directions of their tosses slightly causing one dagger to alternately occupy the same locations in the air only instants after another had just passed through. However at no time were any of the blades heard to clang together with the normal sounds made by steel striking steel.

The pair of jugglers ended their demonstration as the music began to grow even more rapid with the slightly older of the two performers maneuvering to go stand in front of a closed wooden door of a nearby shop. Without any visible message between the two the older stopped his own juggling efforts and instead stood stock still while each of the flashing blades now flew unerringly directly at him. One by one each of these daggers stitched a line only a finger's width away from the older brother's flesh as they buried themselves point first into the wooden door with a resounding thunk. Had any observers had misgivings if the blades were real during the performance their skepticism was erased by this sight of fine steel quivering ever so slightly from the force of the throw.

The crowd of onlookers which was made of Darkon citizens who as a people are a bit more reserved in displaying emotions than many other lands still applauded politely though they did not seem eager to open up the drawstrings on their coin purses which served as the only true description of satisfaction that the entertainers wanted. Sensing this was the mood of the crowd the old musician began to play his violin even more rapidly with a song that seemed to demand all of our attentions before we dared to wander away.

And then the young woman in the swirling skirts appeared from one of the wagons and began to dance and twirl to the music. I will state honestly that while both Eldrenn and I were entertained by her displays and the way the little bells on her costume jingled in time with the music and the little cymbals on her fingers clanged enticingly before the faces in the crowd, I must admit her display was enjoyed far more by those older than our own mere decade of age. This was proven since while no one had been quick to offer even a copper for the jugglers, I noted many young men, and more than a few older open their wallets and drop silver coins at the dancing girl's feet which were immediately scooped up by another young waif of a girl perhaps half my age.

Only three of us turned away from the continuing display, Eldrenn and I being two, and one old man who mumbled a few words beneath his breath that are inappropriate to record here followed by the word 'Vistani' which I had never heard spoken before. Eldrenn and I looked at each other in response to this words as we cut through the crowd but I could tell he too had no idea what that phrase referred to. Of course had we instead been properly watching where we were walking we might not had bumped into the gypsy woman standing in our path.

"Do not be confused or take old Garrad's words to heart boys." The middle aged woman said to us with a twinkled of mirth in her eyes at the shock we wore for her having seemingly known our unspoken thoughts. "He once tried to swindle members of my cousin's family and found to his dismay that it was he who ended up losing money on the deal. He now blames all of we Vistani for the downturn in his business due to the shoddiness of his products. It is sad, but I expect one day his distrust of us will be his undoing." Well now we knew what that foreign word meant at least.

I can remember at this moment feeling both uncomfortable under the woman's gaze and in awe of her demonstrated talent for seeing so evidently what was written on our young faces. Worse still she seemed to understand fully this power she had over us and also seemed to enjoy our discomfort at least a bit, though did not press the issue too far and send us scurrying away for the safety of my father.

"So what is it old Marta can do for you two fine boys? She asked tried to make us feel comfortable. "You appear too young and disinterested in Kali's dance to be seeking a love potion, though I am certain she will still take this as a bit of an insult to her pride." She laughed as I stuttered to offer and explanation. "No apologies young man," she said to me, "Kali is a bit arrogant where enticing men is concerned so it will be good for her to know not every being born with an adam's apple is hers for the taking." Looking back at this I am pleased to note she took this route to physically identify the male of the species rather than the more anatomically obvious course which likely would have resulted in my fainting dead away in embarrassment at that age.

Instead she continued to hold our gaze. "Reading your futures is inappropriate at this time as well, and in truth could such fine and knowledgeable boys as yourself really believe that your life could be displayed by a few playing cards?" There was again that hint of jest just below the surface of her words but I could not tell if she were laughing with us at how foolish others were to believe such thing, or at us that we did not understand the power her tarot cards possessed.

"Ah old Marta knows just the thing!" She said turning from us and walking back around this wagon without looking back, seemingly knowing we would be forced to follow like a fish reeled in on a line. While we did in fact have an opportunity to escape at this point, something I must admit Eldrenn and I both silently considered at that moment she left and we looked at each other once more, the pair of us eventually found ourselves chasing after Marta like two puppies begging for even more attention.

She came to another of the wagons and while I was unsure what she intended, I assumed she would enter and perhaps find some other wonderful magic or some such thing to show us and likely offer for sale. Instead she turned around and took a comfortable seat on the steps and motioned for us to take a seat on the patch of grass near her feet. Like the obedient pets we most certainly were we did so without a word of argument.

"You two look to be of the perfect age to enjoy a good story. What might old Marta tell you of that would be of interest to fine young gentlemen such as yourselves?" She asked with a smile though I must say in truth there was no way Marta could be considered 'old' under any fair and objective description. I doubted she was very many years of age different from my father or mother, and mom made sure I never dared consider calling her old.

"Ghosts." I blurted out before even thinking of what I had said. Thankfully Eldrenn nodded his head in immediate agreement so I did not feel too self conscious. Still Marta nodded with a hint of a smile that suggested to me she would know what our request was going to be even before we made it. She was ready to start just such a story but a look on my face held her from beginning her tale.

The sudden realization of what I had so far observed about the Vistani struck me and in turn made me a bit concerned. "Ma'am not to be rude but we have no silver." My embarrassment was evident and I expected the gypsy woman to be at least disappointed if not enraged. But instead she smiled all the more.

"Not all we Vistani are focused solely on collecting coins my boys, but I forgive you for your ignorance of our ways." She put us at ease. "If you feel that this simple kindness is worthy of some reward, then perhaps sometime in the future you can provide a simple kindness to another if you have such an opportunity. In this way the circle continues ever onward."

I nodded at this offer for what a fine world it would be if people did in fact remember the kindnesses that had been provided them and thereby passed along these in balance at some other future time. All things being equal I have to believe this to be a far better currency than mere gold and silver. Not to mention it would make thievery of such wealth impossible to steal. Eldrenn to found this deal to be acceptable and we settled in for the story to come, knowing somehow that it was going to be even better than any we had heard in other villages so far on our travels.

"In our travels we Vistani, what you call gypsies, have seen many strange things where the restless dead that you call ghosts are concerned." She said leaning back knowing she had our full and undivided attention. "Some of these beings are wholly evil and haunt these lands seeking to inflict even more damage onto the world around them, never realizing the eternal punishment they face is often of their own making. Instead they chose to rage against their existence and let their touch of the grave and their howls of suffering pain all those around them. In many cases just hearing such cries is enough to break a man's heart and kill him outright. And others I have seen have aged before my eyes at the mere touch of one of these vile creatures who should have passed beyond this world of ours."

"But not all ghosts are so evil minded that they deserve such near eternal punishment." She changed her tone with a wistful far off look of remembrance in her eyes. "Some such spirits are nothing more than memories of a life, reminders of a person who for whatever reason did not pass on to the next life. Some others are the souls of people who do not even know they have died, but continue each day to live out the life they once knew wondering why it is that no one seems able to see them or hear them when they speak. Eventually these lost souls come to realize that they have died and while they might resist for a time, almost all of them eventually surrender to the inevitable and pass on from this world to the next."

"A third such type is those who cannot leave for they feel there is some task in this life that they left unaccomplished." She turned her eyes back to us and seemed to look right through me as she continued her story. "How lonely must it be for one to know they are dead and yet not be able to go on to their deserved rest because they must be released from their burdens of a life long past? And as time moves ever forward and those they knew when alive die as well, who is left who might know what he spirit truly needs to find its rest once more?"

I must admit that the image of such a being trapped in this type of existence struck a chord within me and I silently pitied these beings that such a thing could be allowed to occur. What of the all powerful gods? Did not one of them see fit to take sympathy upon such beings whether they were one of their faithful or not and grant them this mercy? Perhaps my currency of good deeds idea should be extended to the immortals as well as those of us who scrabble day to day in our own lives.

Old Marta seemed to have noted my mind's wandering and paused to give me time to finish my internal recollections before nodding sympathetically and continuing her tale. She did so also without any sign of annoyance that I had somehow interrupted her. Thankfully she appeared undeterred by my breach of proper etiquette and continued on with her tale where she had left off with saying a negative.

"The ghost of whom I speak of in this particular tale though is of none of them solely yet all of the three categories to which I have mentioned." She fell right back into her storyteller's tone and we leaned forward reflexively to hear these fantastic secrets we knew she was about to impart to us.

"Here in Staunton Bluffs there once lived a baron whose responsibility was to collect local taxes and see to the welfare of the people in the name of Lord Azalin." She said making a symbol of some sort with her hands before mentioning the name of our land's witch-king ruler. "Unlike many in his position in this and most other lands, this baron was actually filled with a benevolence for his people and it was not unknown that in difficult years he would make up the difference in taxes from his own coffers rather than bleed his peasants to such a point that they would be unable to survive."

"Such kindnesses do not go unpunished in the Land of the Mists and while the local citizens spoke of him with respect and even love, others from further afield simply heard that he had money to spare and set their sights on getting their own cut of such funds." Her voice now held a tone of sadness and disappointment. "For the generous baron also had a young beautiful wife who was the love of his life and a toddler daughter who was the source of the glow on her parents' faces, not to mention the child was loved by many here in the village as if she were their own."

"Unfortunately since the baron was so beloved by his people he never came to the village with guards and neither did his family which made his wife and child easy targets for a pair of highwaymen who took the girl from her mother's arms at dagger point and sent her back to her husband with their message to provide them with this year's collected taxes or lose their daughter forever." While I myself would not learn the pain of loss of a child until much later in life, even at this point I was aware that such a crime against not only an innocent, but a family so undeserving seemed utterly wrong to me. I hoped that the story would end well, though I should have realized by the subject that started this tale it was unlikely to.

"The baron immediately agreed to the demands his wife had carried and ordered his men to round up the taxes and put them in his horse's saddlebags and he would meet with these bandits personally as he had been directed to and make the exchange." Marta stopped and seemed to consider something for a moment before continuing. "The baron however knew that these monies were actually the possession of Lord Azalin and not the lord's own, and that by agreeing to the deal he would likely suffer for this. He even realized that perhaps this might mean the cost of his life. While he did not mention this to his wife, his man at arms did recognize this dangerous concern and state it to him. But the baron looked at his aide and asked what father would not risk their own life for that of their child's?"

"The baron departed for the fields west of town where the merchant road now runs through as this had been the agreed upon location for the trade. It was here the brigands felt they would be safe enough to observe any deception upon the part of the girl's father." Marta spoke now in cool tones. "What neither they nor even the baron were aware of is that the man-at-arms was in truth an informant of the Kargat, Lord Azalin's secret police, who had been sent here when the baron was given his title with orders to ensure his faithfulness and report back to his wizard master any signs of disloyalty. No sooner had the baron begun his ride to the field for the exchange when this Kargat agent notified his masters of what had transpired in this village that day."

"There in the western field as they had directed the baron met the highwaymen who explained to him that they had hidden his daughter nearby and once he turned over the gold and his horse to them they would tell him her location. This way while he went to rescue her, the pair would be free to flee without concern of the baron or his men chasing after them. In truth the plan was well thought out except for the fact they had not expected the Witch King to become aware of their efforts or to take personally that these two would dare to steal from his own coffers."

"The baron did everything that the pair directed, first dismounting from his horse, then even removing his boots to hamper his own ability to follow after them." Marta explained in details that made me wonder if somehow she had been witness to these events that occurred who knows how many years ago. "With a slap to his horse's rump the animal trotted over to the pair who immediately caught it and reached for the saddlebags to ensure they had not been tricked. The baron's voice called out pleadingly for them to tell him where his daughter was hidden but the pair only laughed and opened the saddlebags to put eyes upon their ill acquired riches."

"A booming voice rolled across the meadow at that moment. It was so loud and commanding that I have been since told it could be heard everywhere in the land of Darkon that day. It spoke simply 'See what becomes of those who would steal from me.'" She placed a chill in her tone that had me shaking even though I sat in the warm sun of summer. "The saddlebags exploded in a ball of flame engulfing the pair and the horse while knocking the baron who stood more than a hundred feet away onto his back with the heat of the explosion. The highwaymen had the chance to see their gold for only and instant before their bodies were turned to ash and blown away in a rising cloud of smoke and cooked horseflesh."

"The baron immediately realized the result of this situation and rolling from his back onto his knees like a penitent man in church before his god he cried out to the sky. 'Lord Azalin help me to find my daughter please' he cried." His plea in the story tore at my heart.

"But the voice of injustice called back to him in contempt. 'Baron you did not come to me with this problem but rather trusted in your own skills to see you through this issue. For your lack of faith in me I will grant you your first desire and allow you to find your child without my help, though I will tell you I can sense through my magic she has only a few hours left to live if she is not found.' Without another word the Witch-King spoke no more to the baron, though I have no doubt he watched the unfolding events with some interest." Once again Marta mad some subtle sign with her hands, perhaps a ward against evil, as she spoke of these events to us.

"Some of the villagers came to the field in response to the cloud of fire and smoke they had observed and the baron quickly informed them of his plight. True to their faith in him not an able soul of the village failed to stop what they were doing and all came to the field and help in the search focusing upon the woods that bordered in every direction." I now remembered passing through this very area as my father's wagon drove into town and was struck then by how dense the surrounding woods were. I even knew by this description the field where all these events had occurred for a giant old dead white oak was the only tree standing amid a field of grass that I had thought would be perfect for grazing livestock. The fact that none were present made me wonder why this was. Now I understood that no on would chose to farm in an area of land where such a crime had once been conducted.

"While all the townsfolk searched until the sun was almost gone, the baron could not allow them to endanger themselves with the living dead creatures that walk this land after darkness falls. Instead with saddened eyes he ordered them back to their homes. He knew too in his heart when he gave this order that his daughter was now forever beyond his reach."

"Within days of failing his daughter, the baron was forced to bury his wife as well who had refused to eat in her overpowering sorrow and eventually wasted away unto death. True to their customs the villagers built her a funeral pyre for her cremation, but even so at the end of this ceremony when her body had been turned to ash and laid in a family plot, her spirit was observed by those who attended to rise up from the grave holding a spectral ragdoll that had been her daughter's favorite toy and weeping or her loss." Marta looked us in the eyes, it seemed at me more so than Eldrenn, as if she were judging us.

"I know from the villagers that the baroness is still there even today, though now all the villagers have forgotten her story or her kind nature in life. In fact today the young of this town dare each other to tease this poor woman's spirit and try to get her to leave her mark upon them as some right of passage that they display for all to see, at least until the mark fades away after a few days of time pass. But unfortunately such games are the ways of those who forget the past." Marta seemed to end her story.

We sat there in silence for some time, Eldrenn and I, digesting all we had heard. Unlike other such stories we had been collecting over the past month this one seemed more like one of our school lessons and left us pondering over just what it was we were to learn from all of this. But after a while nothing immediately came to mind, beyond of course the obvious that knowing one's history is good and making fun of spirits is bad. Truth be told those were pretty self evident even before the story so I was certain that was not what the pair of us were expected to take away from this. But in truth Marta was not done with her story at that point only allowing her audience a chance to catch up before continuing with the second part of her double feature.

"A year to the day these disastrous event occurred a young local couple went out to that same pasture area for a bit of a lover's tryst." The word was not one that I was immediately familiar with though I noted Eldrenn's blush at its mention. I figured instead of interrupting her now it was something I would ask him about later. "As they lay together in each other's arms they heard the sound of a crying child and both stopped their activities to find the source. Not ten feet from where they sat they saw a little girl who cried and asked for her mommy. Both of these young lovers were overcome with a desire to help, but the girl was just a bit faster than the boy and swept the child up in her arms while offering words of comfort to stop the child's tears."

"If the young man's tale that he told to the authorities afterwards is to be believed, the crying little girl faded away to nothingness right before his very eyes and immediately thereafter his lover fell dead at his feet." The image of this action shocked me out of the comfortable and safe, if sad, place that Marta's tale had so far created for me. While the little girl's death had been tragic it was no way the fault of these two.

"Of course the boy's story could have been nothing more than an elaborate lie." Marta offered up. "The local authorities spent the next three days right up until nightfall in that same clearing and they saw no evidence of a child or ghost to back up the boy's story. It was also discovered that the girl's hand had been promised by her protective parents to another and many in the village therefore speculated that the boy had actually killed his lover in a fit of rage so his rival for her affections could never have her. While he was offered the opportunity to plead guilty and ask for mercy the boy stuck to his ghostly story up until he died there on the gallows, for hanging of course was the crime for murder at that time."

The very words of this story were now beginning to turn me off of this subject. Four innocent people had been killed in the space of a year along with the two guilty instigators. Somehow it seemed to me that the story was missing the sense of justice that all such tales required. But Marta showed no signs of continuing to provide this type of satisfactory solution.

"So that is all there is?" I asked letting more than a little of my disappointment into my voice. I could see Eldrenn shared my feelings and also seemed to desire a satisfactory ending to these events.

"Perhaps." Marta said with a hint of a smile. "Or perhaps not." She took a breath and we two held our own until we could do so no longer and then she continued with her story. "Nearly a score of years later, once again on the anniversary of the child's death, a merchant much like you father Rudolph, was passing through the field that afternoon, or at least that is what all the evidence that was found pointed to. His body was found lying on the grass near the great white oak tree and seemed to have died suddenly and without any outward sign of pain or struggle. Those villagers now old enough to remember the lovers, but not too old, recalled that the scene look eerily familiar to the way the girl's body had been found almost two decades earlier and was in fact lying in almost the exact same spot."

"Many of the villagers came now to wonder if perhaps the ghost appeared only on the anniversary of her death which is why the authorities had found no evidence of her long ago." Marta continued talking even though the descriptions she gave were sending more chills up our spines. "While some argued that they should station someone in the field on the following year to see if perhaps they had wrongly executed an innocent man, no one within the village was willing to accept this responsibility since if true it would almost assuredly mean their death as it had for the last two."

"To this day, now many decades later, it is common lore in this village that it is bad luck to enter that clearing on this anniversary date, though in truth I doubt one in fifty of the villagers alive today even know why that is anymore." Marta held a note of contempt for the locals but once again seemed to have finished her tale.

I was still troubled by parts of the story and trying to find the words to ask the proper questions and alleviate this feeling but this time Eldrenn spoke up first. "How is it that you know such things being wanderers and all if the people in the village where all these events took place have already forgotten these them?" While the words may sound challenging here on paper, trust me to tell you that his voicing of them was both meek and respectful, and rather than enraging our storyteller they actually made her smile even more.

"While you have seen members of my tribe play and dance for coins understand that we Vistani know that knowledge is the true coin of this realm and in that way our people are richer than almost other any you could name." She said which explained but still did not answer the question. But still was all we were going to get for a response.

I myself though now moved toward another tactic, taking her hint and seeing if I could gain a coin or two in this realm that she was so please to speak of. "Since you know the story what is the anniversary date that the child is believed to appear on?"

Marta stopped her recollections and for a very long period of seconds that seemed to me like minutes as she stared at me. It felt as if she was judging my worth for such information or perhaps having a conversation with someone else who neither Eldrenn nor I could see or hear. I am almost willing to accept the latter regardless of how fanciful the idea because I can surely recall that she seemed to nod in a resigned manner before responding to me.

"And if I told you young Rudolph what would you do with this information hhhmmmm?" She asked. I suddenly wondered how she knew my name for this was the second time she had spoken it, though I realized it must have been from Eldrenn speaking it at some point of the story I am sure. "Have I not explained that the three who have gone there on that day all had their lives ended in a tragic fashion? Why would you think that your efforts would end any differently than theirs?"

Again it seemed to me that Marta was torn between telling me and not telling me for she wore that very same look I have seen on my mother's face when she was allowing me to learn from my mistakes the hard way as she called it. In this case though the lesson I was trying to learn might just be fatal. But still there was that missing sense of justice that nagged at me and almost forced the words from my mouth. "I would like to do something to help these spirits find rest for I do not think it fair they be condemned to such an existence." Even today I am not sure how I came to this conclusion. "I do not know even if there is anything I could do, but until I know as much as possible about these events I can't say for sure."

Marta nodded, partially in approval and partially in sympathy or inevitability it seemed to me before responding. "The anniversary date, now nearly a century later, is the one we share here today." She said shocking me with this piece of knowledge I had requested.

In truth I had likely assumed that with more than three hundred and sixty days to choose from it was unlikely that the date would fall upon the one, two, or perhaps even three my father might spend here in town. And while I might have been sympathetic to the plight of these ghosts, I would also accept that there was nothing I could do if I was not here on the date of the anniversary. But now I was suddenly fully immersed in the possibilities and had to decide for myself what to do with knowledge. At least, if it were any comfort, I noted Eldrenn was equally overwhelmed by this information and its implications.

"May I ask ma'am if you are aware of this why have you not done anything to help these poor spirits?" Eldrenn asked once more.

Marta only smiled back. "There are hundreds, no thousands of such problems in this world of ours, which would you have we Vistani take care of for you at risk to ourselves?" She asked back making us remember that she was a visitor to this land and had no ties or reasons to offer any help since it was unlikely she would be here long anyway. "Perhaps young one my passing this information on to the pair of you is the way we Vistani chose to help. Did we not keep this knowledge while those who are most affected chose to forget it? Since the problem is one of you giorgios making is it not more proper that a giorgio be the one to correct it?"

I of course was unfamiliar with the word giorgio at that time but understood from her use of it that is referred to someone, perhaps anyone, who was not of the Vistani. I knew not how to respond to such logic for she was an elder and I had been taught to respect all such from my parents so I merely nodded as did Eldrenn. Seeing that our story was at an end I slowly rose to my feet as my friend found his own as well and then we bowed respectfully to our hostess before turning to make our way to leave.

"Ah perhaps old Marta is not as cold hearted as others expect her to be." She called out to no one in particular, though I got the feeling that she was not in fact talking to us except when she bid us to wait for a moment. She disappeared into her trailer for a moment and we could hear her rummaging around inside though neither of us had the courage to try and sneak a peek at whatever wonders the wagon might contain. Finally after three or four minutes she returned bearing two small silver charms on leather straps.

"Take these with you boys as a gift from old Marta in case the curiosity of young men today is still as strong as it was in my own youth and their sense of justice has grown even stronger." She reached over our heads, first Eldrenn's and then my own, and placed the charms around our necks before touching us each on the cheek.

"Remember this kindness in the future and try not to look down on my people for the mistakes of a few." She said mysteriously and then turned and once again entered her wagon, closing her door in such a way as to exclaim that our interview and shared time together was at its end. We turned and walked a ways away before either of us was willing to speak the words bubbling in our minds. But when my eyes met those of my friend both of us knew that we had to learn the truth of this story.

The cemetery of Staunton Bluffs looked like any such facility would that had been serving a similar sized village for nearly two centuries with various stones and grave markers appearing fairly new while other could barely be read after decades of winter snows and spring showers had worn away much of their information. The only oddity of this particular graveyard is that the markers were placed much closer to one another as the need to separate them for full sized bodies to be interred had been eliminated.

While there were hundreds of such markers, it was obvious where our destination lay since we could hear the voices of children our own age in taunting tones not far ahead.

_Lady without joy_

_Holding her child's toy_

_Wailing and crying_

_While all the time her child was dying?_

We could hear the children gathered giggling at the end of each repetition of this verse as we approached and they danced around and around as if this were some bizarre maypole day event of celebration. And while our presence was noted by the other children who immediately recognized that we were strangers, none of the children present were willing to give up their game except with great reluctance beneath the weight of our stares of disapproval. Even then all this did was cause them to pull back into a group that spoke without words they had no desires for outsiders or strangers to join their game. Eldrenn and I paid them barely any attention though as we looked instead upon the first true apparition that either of us had ever seen.

I know not what the baron's wife may have looked like in life but the pitiful spirit before us appeared wasted and crushed beneath her grief and I could not help but feel a sense of pity for this poor woman who had been stripped of everything that had once held any meaning in her life. That she was truly of the spirit world was undeniable for while it seemed the apparition might indeed have some level of what still took place around her, for instance she noted the other children departure at our own arrival, if one looked directly at her it was possible to still see grave markers behind her that her body should have blocked from view. Her crying as well, while not particularly loud, seemed filled with more sorrow than a living body was able to contain without bursting asunder. Here now this spirit though had nothing else in its makeup but being filled with such despair.

I decided then and there that I was going to help her if I was able, which I look back at now and see was a rather mature declaration for a lad of my age. More surprising still was that Eldrenn nodded in his own agreement to my quietly voice declaration without a second of hesitation as well.

But of course wanting to help this ghost did not provide any additional insight into how we might actually go about doing this. Midday was now two hours gone and if we were going to sneak out to the field where the girl had died and still return before dark we would have to do so soon or wait a year. Our stop here at the graveyard had served only to prove the story had been based at least on some facts for if the weeping ghost had not been here as we told it was, then it was likely the rest of the story was false as well and this would thereby save us a wasted trip.

Now seeing a significant part of the tale at least had been confirmed we both felt confident enough with the story to see if its other major part might be true as well. But the baroness's wailing still twisted in my stomach and I felt I needed to do something or say something to raise her spirits if such a thing were possible.

"Good lady my friend and I go to seek your daughter for you." I said to the spirit not really expecting for her to hear or acknowledge us but wanted none the less to try and offer some comfort. "If the gods are willing we will find a way to return her to you."

I started to turn away as I had nothing left to say but Eldrenn's arm grabbed my own and spun me back around. The ghost had quieted in her wails of loss and slowed this to mere sobs as she looked at the two of us. Finally she raised he hand toward us as if offering her daughter's spectral doll to the pair of us as payment for the service we offered to render. Neither of us of course would ask for payment from a woman who had already been forced to pay so much so we both merely raised our hands to waive off any such suggestion of compensation.

Quicker than I would believe possible, or even later be able to fully recall, the womanly spirit leapt at the pair of us and pressed the spectral doll to our palms causing a jolt like a static spark to flow through our bodies; only this was many hundreds of times stronger. We both fell to our backs and crab walked away as fast as we could in a combination of residual pain and fear. The ghost had by this time turned away from us and once again began her own wailing of loss. This provided just enough incentive for both of us to reach our feet once more and make a more determined and immediate departure from the cemetery to the accompanying laughs of the local children who once again began their taunting song to the ghost.

We were nearly back to where my father had parked our own wagon and where he was still in the midst of a smaller crowd selling the goods he carried presently as well as taking order for others when the fear left our bodies. We both came to a halt; thankfully boys running did not raise much inquiry in the minds of the locals or my father, and stopped to see what had happened to us. We each lifted our left hands and found an image of the spectral doll's face had been imprinted on our palms, turning the top most layer of skin bleached white as if we had suffered under the effects of frostbite, a rather odd occurrence for mid summer to say the least. Since Marta had said the children found ghostly marks a right of passage and that they faded away after a few days neither of us was overly concern, especially since the flesh beneath still seemed whole, healthy, and responsive to the touch.

The field outside of town did not seem nearly so airy, open, and inviting as it had before we had learned its history. It could have been nothing more than my imagination but I was almost certain I could make out a circular depression in the field where the explosive fireball had been detonated decades before. Still even if that was only a figment of a child's over active conscious mind, it took little effort to picture the rest of the story Marta had told us taking place here as well. Where we stood on the road at the edge of the field was likely where the Baron himself had ridden to before being ordered by the highwaymen from his mount.

No part of the story Marta had told us added any clue as to where the little girl's body may have been placed during the exchange which seemed to us to be the key to this mystery. After our encounter with her mother we had debated that perhaps speaking to the child would be our best course for perhaps she could be reasoned with to lead us to her burial location and then be reunited hit her mother.

Of course performing such an action required us to trust in the charms the Vistani had given us would be able to protect us if the girl was as deadly as Marta's story had suggested. While it is one thing to want to believe this, once we were there standing at the edge of the clearing it was something else to actually find the courage to follow through on our desire to help. This decision though was taken from us as a rustle of leaves and breaking branches nearby announced the arrival of another to this site.

Gerrad, the merchant from the village who had little good to speak of the Vistani strode out into the clearing from another path in the woods looking straight at the two of us boys with accusation in his eyes. "I have been watching the pair of you all morning. So whelps what treasures did the Vistani promise you assist in ruining my life even more?" He accused coming at us across the field with anger in his eyes and his hands clenching into fists. "I know you are Otto Van Richten's brats so it does not surprise me that the old thief would work a deal with a tribe of other thieves to do in the only honest businessman in this pathetic rat's hole of a village."

I must say that my instinct at this point was to run for my father's side, but I had never before heard anyone speak poorly of my parent and certainly no one I knew would ever have accused him of thievery or dishonest business practices. So instead of fleeing, which would have been sensible, I stood rooted to the ground trying to find an appropriate curse word to offer this man that had dared to challenge my father's honor in my presence. Unfortunately as I may have mentioned I came from a fairly disciplined household and such words were not commonly used in my presence so I had not immediate access to any of them. Instead I went to the strongest thing I could come up with. "Don't you dare insult my father you cur."

Okay a ten year old boy comparing an enraged man to a dog is almost humorous in most situations, but in this one it actually caused Garrad's rage to increase even more. I know not if he found the comparison offensive because he did not like dogs, or just the thought of someone standing up to him finally sent him over the edge but the older man only growled at me and charged all the faster in my direction.

The sound of the crying child echoing over the swaying grass brought Garrad up short even before Eldrenn or I recognized what it foretold. Like the merchant our own eyes were drawn to its source and saw it to be a little girl standing beside the dead oak tree in the field weeping in her own despair. The scene before me at least was every bit the one that I had imagined as Marta had told her tale.

Gerrad had not had the benefit of this tale and so he turned toward the child and began to approach with actual concern as any adult of moral character would in such a situation. While only moments before I had possibly hated the man for what he had said of my father and even more for what he was likely to do to me, I saw all too clearly, as did Eldrenn, of what Gerrad's course of action would lead to.

We both leapt into the field yelling as we ran, trying to break the trance of charm the little girl had put the merchant under. "Garrad do not, she is a ghost and will kill you if you get near her." I called out hoping that my words 'ghost' or 'kill' would somehow penetrate through to his mind. I also noted that the Vistani amulet that Marta had gifted me with now seemed warm against my skin, though I could not state honestly that this was in any way proof of it magic. It might have just as well been holding heat from this summer day as most metals left in the sun were wont to do.

For a moment I think I may have reached a part of Gerrad's mind for he seemed to hesitate and turned toward the pair of us running ever closer to him with each step we took. But the child's wailing became even louder and we could see clearly Gerrad's moment of distraction evaporate on his face as he turned and picked the child up in his arms to offer her comfort. We were still a half dozen steps away as I saw the girl begin to fade from his grasp as the man staggered and looked to us, not knowing his body had just died even if his mind did not yet realize it.

I raised my hand up and screamed for the child to stop her attack though this was more a scream of raw emotion than any actual communicative words another would recognize. While I watched Gerrad's body fall to the grass the girl seemed to pause in her fading away and once more become more solid, though she still floated above the ground as if someone held her, not recognizing the last mortal to do so not was now forever lying dead beneath her very feet by her actions.

"Dolly!" She said obviously recognizing the mark on my palm even though I had not consciously chosen that one to display in my order for her to stop. I could see the fear and rage that the child had worn upon her face only moments before was now replaced by one of recognition and sadness and once more she began to fade from view.

"Your mother is waiting for you." I spoke softly as I came to a stop just outside of her reach. "Where were you hidden?" I asked. As her body turned to sparkling motes of dancing light her hand raised up to point with her ghostly fingers at the old dead oak tree and then she faded away completely from sight once more.

Eldrenn and I returned to town with new problems every bit as big as those which had caused us to leave in the first place. Yes to you the reader you may think we had solved a hundred year old mystery so we should be running back full of excitement to proclaim our success. Thankfully Eldrenn and I had chosen to walk back instead of run and thereby had enough time in our pacing back to understand the issues we were bound to face and come to what we believed were reasonable solutions.

The first major problem of course was that a local villager Gerrad was now lying dead in the field outside of town and we had to tell someone soon if they were going to recover his body before dark. Our overriding concern with this is the last person who had tried the 'a ghost killed a local villager' story had survived only three more days after making this story before being strung up for murder. While it seemed unlikely that two ten year olds would be able to overcome an adult of his girth, we were not about to take chances on the justice system of this village if this could be avoided.

Some rather callous among you might suggest instead that we leave him there and let someone else discover him, perhaps drawn to his body eventually by the circling buzzards and crows. I will forgive such naivety in those of you who are not from Darkon, for if the smell of a dead body did not draw other undead to the village such as ghouls and ghasts whose diet consisted of such things, then there was always the possibility that Gerrad himself would rise up and seek vengeance upon those he blamed for his untimely demise. While I do not have any clue as to the size of that potential list, both Eldrenn and I were certain our names would likely appear prominently on it whether that was a deserved rating or not.

By the time we reached the town proper we had decided that the best course of action was to place this back in the lap of Marta since it was in fact her story that had put us on this course of action. While she may not choose to get involved in giorgio affairs, we hoped in this case she would take some exception or at least provide us with a better suggestion as a next course of action. That plan however fell apart when we learned almost immediately that the gypsies had already departed, and while no one we spoke to knew which road their wagons had taken out of town, everyone was certain they were no longer within the village limits.

Seeing that we were literally out of alternative options I decided and Eldrenn concurred that we would go speak with my father privately and hope that he could offer a means to extract us from this problem and at the same point serve the greater good of uniting mother and child after a century or so apart. I can say with some degree of honesty that I would not actually lie to my father, which was a good thing since my respect for him was in many ways the center of my universe at that age.

We told him truthfully that like in other villages we had travelled to the pair of us had sought out other ghostly stories here about and that Eldrenn and I had heard two this day, the one of the weeping woman of the graveyard, which thankfully my father had heard about also on a previous visit to this village, and the one of the lost child of the western pasture. I casually skipped over who had provided these tales to us and how they had been delivered and thankfully my father had never asked.

I went on to explain after seeing the ghost in the graveyard and being marked by her, showing our palms at this time as evidence, Eldrenn and I had decided to sneak out to the field and see if we might see this second ghost for ourselves as well. My story from this point on skipped over a few of the relevant facts that I have included in this accounting, but hit all the high points and did mention our observation of Gerrad's death and our deduction, though not how we came by it, that the child had been buried under or in the old oak tree that stood in the field.

My father looked long and hard at me, likely certain there were details I was omitting, but decided not to press the issue. I partially thank for this the fact that sundown was now only a few hours away and left him no time for such inquiries when he knew he would have time as we rode in the wagon in the coming days to grill us further if he still felt the need.

Whatever means my father used to pass this information on to the authorities I never learned for myself because Eldrenn and I had been ordered to stay at the tailor's home while he went out to handle this situation and tell the appropriate parties. An hour before the sun set he arrived back at the tailor's cottage and told Eldrenn and I to follow him without a word. We did so returning once more to the town cemetery where Gerrad's body was laid out upon a funeral bier with the fires already beginning to consume him. Next to this large pile of wood were a smaller second pile of fuel that supported only bones and a few rotten scraps of cloth.

Eldrenn and I watched in silence as the two piles of remains were slowly turned to ash and then as the last rays of dusk painted the western sky these were swept up into urns. The larger was placed in a newly dug hole, its marker a temporary piece of wood with Gerrad's name upon it to serve until a stone one could be cut to replace it.

The second urn's ultimate destination seemed to raise a bit of a confusion to the villagers until I stepped forward, how I became so bold I do not really know, and took it without a word of explanation and walked to the wailing ghost with Eldrenn beside me who had himself grabbed a shovel. I held the urn close and protectively to my body while Eldrenn dug a hole under the wavering spectral image who looked down upon us approvingly. While we performed our chores in silence under the observation of the whole of the town, the baroness's ghost stopped its pitiful cries to observe us as well.

Once the urn was in the hole and we scooped the consecrated ground carefully back on top of it, we and nearly all the town watched as the ghost smiled for the first time in more than one hundred years and then slowly faded from view. I cannot swear to this with any true certainty but I believe I heard her say "Thank you" as she faded forever from sight.

I rate the feeling of satisfaction I had at that moment second only to what I felt as we walked back to the tailor's home that night in the fading sunlight. My father put his hands upon Eldrenn's and my shoulders making us turn and look at him. I saw there undisguised respect. "Boys you did a good thing here. I am proud of you both." No words he could have said would have raised my spirits any higher.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Fool **62

Sometime in the Summer of Year 682 Il' Aluk, Darkon Chapter 3

I must admit that there was much private talk over the following months between my parents and Eldrenn's about all that had occurred in Staunton Bluffs that summer. While my father had proclaimed to me and the others his pride in our efforts, my mother took a rather opposing view of the matter speaking at some length to me about the danger I had place myself in and an even longer length of not speaking to my father over his inability to watch over his only son. Thankfully our guest bedroom had a rather comfortable bed for the rather unseasonably chilly month that followed our triumphant return to Rivalis. The chill by the way had nothing to do with the local weather, which was actually one of the warmest anyone could recall, or the fact that the guest room was located as far from the wood stoves in our home as possible. This chill that had sprung up in our home was also not warmed at all by my father's business success that year which had been his most profitable ever.

My aunt took a decidedly different view of these events, focusing almost solely upon the frostbite mark that had tattooed my palm for a week after we left Staunton Bluffs before eventually fading away. This was for the record still a full month before I even returned home. Like a hundred other ailments my aunt swore she had a remedy for this condition, and would not be put off by the mere fact that there was no evidence I had ever been actually marked in such a way. She produced yet another tonic from her seemingly endless collection of dust covered bottles, as aging was apparently good for all of them, and made me drink three swallows. My mother who was normally my defender in such situations or at least created a necessary diversion so I could spit the concoction out in a nearby plant, this time merely looked on at me with a smile of satisfaction as if to say she saw this as a suitable punishment for daring to scare her sensibilities by endangering my life so.

I would like to say that the draught was pleasant and immediately served to warm the very corners of my being and provide me a refreshed outlook on life, but that would be a gross exaggeration. I will say only honestly that it did not kill me, which I think was more by luck than actual intent based on the effects many of her draughts had on those plants that suffered under my chances to avoid swallowing.

While not relevant to this story I will pass along that in my first year at the University of Il' Aluk where I was studying to become a doctor, I sought out the college chemist and inquired of him if such a medicinal cure for ghost touch actually existed. Instead of laughing or throwing me out of his office for wasting his valuable time the chemist professor only shuddered at some personal similar memory of his own and wished me well in my studies. To her final days, however, my aunt loved to proclaim that she and her wonder cures are the reason I chose to become a doctor.

One more note to make the record on this complete. Eldrenn did not escape unscathed from these adventurers either. Like my own, his father merely took a single look at his son after he heard the story and noted not only was he still alive but also still had all the required working parts and dismissed the idea as no big affair. His mother, however, promptly fainted dead away at the first telling and stayed in bed for a near week while Eldrenn was forced to attend to her every need. While not directly intending to do so, these experiences quickly taught a pair of boys the different expectations fathers and mothers have for their children.

As summer approached the following year my father once again made plans for his four to five months of travel. To my mother's shock he announced that I would again be travelling with him this year, supposedly to learn the trade as all village boys did with their own fathers or uncles, or at least those who did not get sold off to apprenticeships with others. In truth I think my father wanted another successful year like the last and was going to do what he could to copy it as much as he was able. Even the additional week in she resigned him to in the guest room once more did not deter him from this decision.

Eldrenn's parents were fully supportive of this providing they had my father's assurances their son would not be an added burden. Part of this might also have something to do with the new baby sister his mother had given birth to in the spring as well that I heard Eldrenn's father tell my own was the result of another unexpected perk of a house free of children for a few months. At the time I did not understand and now that I do I am not about to explain except to say go and ask your own parents.

The one concession I was forced to make by my mother was not to perform any more services for ghosts this year. She recommended instead that I improve my reading skills by focusing solely upon documented stories of such spirits if I had the overwhelming desire to learn more and leave the hands-on experimentation to others. She even got my father to agree to purchase any reasonably priced records of such things I might come across in exchange for him moving back into his regular bedroom in the final week before we departed. Of all the people I saw deal with my dad, my mother always seemed to know the right way to make an offer he would not willingly ignore.

Like the year before, my father decided that we should deal with the eastern cities first early in the year and then spend the later months of summer and early fall closer to home so not to get trapped should an early snow come to the land of Darkon. Our first course of travel however was south along the major trade ways that led to the village of Nartok.

A man on a horse or a wagon could easily traverse this distance in a single day if he left at a reasonable hour of the morning and still arrive in time for a warm supper at any of the local inns. It was perhaps fifteen miles by the winding path between the two villages, ten or so as the crow flies so hardly more than a good stretch of the legs for the average healthy man either. However for my father and his wagon this trip took four days of travel.

The delay was once again because my father knew everyone who lived along this path and we were forced by respect of his customers to accept their hospitality. In fact the first night we spent at a farmer's home only a mile or so beyond the recognized limits of our village. I off handedly asked my father if Eldrenn and I could go back and sleep in our own beds and meet him back here in the morning. While both the farmer and his wife got a rather serious belly chuckle out of this idea, my father failed to see the humor. Though he did smile when he sent me out to rub down our horses, who I might add also seemed to spend a lot of time looking fondly over their shoulders toward the home and warm stalls they knew were not all that far away. I had no explanation for them either.

By the time we reached Nartok over half of the goods my father had packed in his wagon before we departed had already been sold or traded off, universally for larger items, which spoke volumes to me on how well my dad knew his customer base. Of course this left less room in the wagon for a pair of 'young boys who really needed their exercise anyway' since sacks of farmer's spring produce took up more space than the goods they had been traded for. Thankfully we knew from our travels last year that these items rarely stayed in the wagon long so we would likely have a place to rest our backsides by the time our wagon pulled out of town in a day or two from now.

Nartok being an actual village and situated along a major trade route to neighboring lands meant that it was more 'sophisticated' and 'civilized' than those in Darkon off such beaten paths. To me it merely meant they were larger, louder, and more crowded than the others to which my father responded 'wait until you see a true city one day Rudolph.'

While my father set up shop and did his normal brisk business, Eldrenn and I went about investigating the town, noting it had not changed in the year since we had last been here. We then decided to ask around for any merchants who might have books for sale.

Nartok itself was too small for an actual library, except perhaps a few private collections that its wealthier citizens might maintain for themselves, but it still would attract all types of wanderers and travelling merchants who had such items to sell. The advantage here is that there would be few if any buyers for books in the village so we likely could get them at a reasonable price if they had what we were looking for.

While it took much of an afternoon of scouting around we did finally find one shopkeeper that had a book that spoke of spirits or so he had been told. It took him nearly ten minutes to locate it and a similar amount of time for us to settle on a price since the merchant could not read. When he let me look at it and show him the book had been some adventurer's journal, not a spellbook, an authoritative guide, or historical record, he accepted a single silver piece for it, happy to have made such a sale at all.

Eldrenn and I returned back to my father's wagon and took turns reading from the journal, though I must admit there were words within that I was not familiar with and others which I was forbidden from speaking. The journal was a private work of a swordswoman name Anani Mahss who said she originated from a great city called Greyhawk, a place which neither I nor my father has ever heard of. I should inform you readers that many such people arrive in the borders of Darkon from far off lands with names we locals are unfamiliar with. Some leave our land in search of their own while other eventually settle here and after a time seem to forget their lives or at least the stories they spoke of before they came to us.

Unfortunately more than a few also seem to arrive at night or do not heed the warning of staying under sheltered roofs once darkness falls and often pay for this mistake with their very lives. I have been told there is a significant underworld market for the personal belonging that many of these people were carrying as well, though it was a business my father refused to knowingly have any part of. I can only hope than Anani Mahss's journal was not such an item but was rather lost by its owner or it had been stolen perhaps by a nimble pickpocket by mistake.

In honor to her memory I include herein a short part of a description she and her friends had with an evil spectre. May the knowledge you glean from this be a blessing to her soul wherever it may exist today.

_As soon as I slipped the silver chain over my head, the world changed. Before this transformation, I was surrounded by the sound and fury of my companions locked in battle with a horde of goblyns. Suddenly all this faded into soundless, ethereal images. I was swathed in a grayness that dampened my heart and soul. Conversely, the grinning shade that had commanded these dark legions became suddenly clear and crisp in my sight. My eyes focused on him hungrily, for here was a source of light and vision to soothe my deprived senses._

_My strange transformation drew his attention, for he turned to me, leaving his minions to battle my friends without his aid. "You have the amulet of ethereal travel!" He hissed._

_I did not answer, for the creature was moving toward me with great speed. He seemed to walk through the shadowy bodies of the goblins, caring little for the destruction he caused. The twisted creatures grabbed their chests and fell to the ground. Obviously, his pets meant nothing to him if he could gain possession of the silver talisman I wore about my neck._

_As the shade drew close, I raised my sword. The gleam of its magical edge seemed to anger the apparition, for he stopped his approach and let out a low growl of rage. He stood motionless for a moment with his hand outstretched. To my horror, a sliver of blackness formed in his grip. In a moment, he held before him a sword of purest darkness._

_From the private journal of_

_Anani Mahss_

That night before we fell asleep my father informed us that we would travel to the city of Il' Aluk starting tomorrow. While this was a surprise to me since I knew my father preferred to avoid the capital city of our land I could not get the image of Anani Mahss story out of my head. That night I dreamt of a black sword wielding ghost coming for me.

It was not that my father had anything personal against the city of Il' Aluk it was just that since the city housed over twenty five thousand living people, and I learned later a sizeable number of dead beings as well, there really was no call for his ability to locate items needed beyond what the community itself could provide. There was not an occupation that was not adequately represented by multiple talented professionals and tradesmen, not to mention a host of apprentices and scam artists.

By comparison my home village of Rivalis had a population of only five thousand if one included the outer lying farms that relied upon our village for the services these families required. As an aside the fact that more than half the population of Rivalis was made up of halflings also made that number seem much smaller, pardon the pun.

In years past my father had only taken his wagon into Il' Aluk when one of his customers required something that none of the other villages could produce. I believe all such items ended up being spell components or nearly magical items such as finely crafted wand that merely required enchantment by a mage to be turned into a weapon. None of the villages had much use for such items, even though many had at least one or two citizens capable of casting spells, so none of the villages' citizens specialized in such exacting work.

On the other hand Il' Aluk had a College of Magic that taught many such gifted young spell wielders how to harness their art so it was not surprising a few local merchants were versed in these specialized needs and made sure they could supply what their customers required. The catalyst for our own out of the ordinary visit to the capital this year was that my father had in his possession an unusual object this year for sale and that in the village of Nartok he learned from an innkeeper of a fortuitous event taking place in Il' Aluk that would be the perfect place to sell this item.

The item that my father had in his possession was a silver holy symbol of the goddess Erza, one that Eldrenn's father had made over the winter months. In every way the elegant piece of bright silver offset with turquoise chips was an undeniable work of art that only needed a priest's blessing to be worthy of the title of a holy relic. Most craftsmen's work never reaches the level of a true piece of artistry, be they a blacksmith, a tailor, or a cobbler. But now and then on rare occasions the right elements will come together in the inspired hands of a creator and such a piece will be the result.

I have heard in a way this is a curse, for most times once such a masterpiece is made, the artist can never again reach that level of perfection no matter how hard they try. Some realize this right away and seek a new occupation rather than face compromising themselves and their artwork by making lesser pieces. Others literally go mad pursuing that goal and never being able to achieve it.

On very rare occasions, someone with a unique level of talent such as Eldrenn's father is able to reach this level more than once. In fact the holy symbol that my father held was the sixth such piece worthy of the title masterpiece in twice that number of years. Because of such my father had agreed to try and sell it only with great reluctance, know he could never get the items true value from the smaller villages where he did business.

While in Nartok my father had heard that a group of priests from the Church of Erza had within the last week come through the town on their way to Il Aluk as representatives of their church for a theological conference being held at the university. While this church had some small shrines with the occasional missionary priest in a few of the villages, and also had a full temple being built in the capital, the church's true power and followers lay in foreign lands much further to the south of our own. As such these practitioners and clergy were looked on by our citizens as outsiders and still not truly trusted. My father and those locals who had talked about this event in Nartok believed the Church of Erza looked on this event as a way to introduce themselves even more to the people of Darkon.

Since it was such a high level delegation that had chosen to attend, the merchants my father dealt with in Nartok suggested he show them the piece as they would likely also have the funds available to pay close to its true worth since they would be able to truly understand the value of such a beautiful work of art. For those reasons and that my father felt it was only right to get the best price possible for Eldrenn's dad, my father turned away from his regular yearly course of trade for the moment and instead headed our wagon in the direction of the capital.

The ride was not the most comfortable of the trip since we travelled over mostly farm trails made by horses and wagons rather than an actual road but we still made good time by leaving at sunrise and reaching the walls of the city more than an hour before sundown. I noted my father still breathed a heavy sigh of relief when we finally reached those gates though he would not speak of why when I asked him.

I can only assume it was because for much of the day we passed within sight, to hear my father describe it almost in the very shadows, of Castle Avernus where our ruler the Witch King Alazin Rex holds his court and sway over all of Darkon. Stories of the insides of this palace ranged from tales of individual rooms whose art and furniture were worth more than some entire villages to the stories of the inhuman and eternal screams of prisoners who had challenged our lord's laws or authority and lost. At that age I knew not which, if either, was closer to the truth, but even with its magical looking grand spires and towers reaching toward the sky, there seemed to be a sense of power and wrongness about the place that made me prefer to avoid looking at the castle for too long. Eldrenn shared my feelings as well and both of us agreed that now was not a good time to read any more of the journal of Anani Mahss and her encounters with the undead.

Once within the city walls of Il' Aluk and after my father had been forced to explain the reason for his visit to two separate pairs of city guards who went off to confer and left us standing and awaiting their leisure, we were bid welcome and even offered a suggestion on what inn was close by to the university that would be able to see to the needs of watching our goods while we slept. I have no doubt the soldiers received some sort of kickback from the inn for each customer they sent there due to their kind and generous natures.

Even though my father had thanked these men, his cautious personality left him concerned about his goods so he and Eldrenn and I spent the last minutes before sundown hauling these items into the small room we all shared and stacking them as best we could to still leave us room to sleep. If we had been marked by potential thieves on our trip through town, the underworld element of Il'Aluk did not profit from our visit to the capital that night.

Morning came and my father paid for a fine breakfast and the same room in case we stayed for a second night. Partially this was because he could not state with any certainty how long his negotiations with the clergy would take, or if he would even be granted an audience without a day or two delay. It also provided a semi-secure location to lock up the rest of our goods rather than load them once more back into the wagon, a task that Eldrenn and I did not look forward to with any sense resembling true excitement.

In all the other villages we had visited last year Eldrenn and I had been granted our freedom to investigate and talk to the locals while my father conducted his business but this was not how things were going to be here in the capital. The size of the city was certainly one concern to my father but even more so were the criminal elements and the potential for us to run afoul of the wrong people.

Therefore Eldrenn and I were offered only two possible options. The first was to tag along with my father, being silent and respectful if anyone spoke to us directly, while he conducted his business. I will say in all honestly that this did not do much to excite the minds of a pair of eleven year olds. While I knew my father was good at what he did I also knew there was little in the way of interesting moments when observing it. In fact it was much like watching others fish and sleep at the same time.

The second option that my father offered the two of us was to spend the day, or at least until he returned, right here in the room we had rented. In case you happened not to read it correctly I said just the room and not the entire inn. The thought of staying in that cramped room that was filled with merchant wares made the alternative of watching sleepy fishing seem a rare treat. We of course therefore chose the former rather than the latter.

As we made our way through the streets of the city I was immediately impressed that my father seemed to know exactly where we were headed even though it was not a place he normally visited. Il' Aluk like most bigger cities is a mix of wide thoroughfares that wagons can travel upon and still allow room for another to pass going the opposite direction, and narrow streets and alleys where there was only enough room for two people to walk side by side. My father's course had us staying almost exclusively to the thoroughfares on our journey that day, though I suspect it was a slightly longer path to get to our destination.

During this walk my eyes were torn between keeping sight on my father so not to lose him in the milling crowds of people off on their own business, and recording the wonders around me of the first true city I had ever been in. When I say wonders I do not mean to suggest everything was a delight to my senses, in fact it was often just the opposite. For every multistory house that had been built so close to its neighbor that Eldrenn and I felt confident we could leap safely from one rooftop to the next for block after block, there was also the images of people emptying their chamber pots into the street below, causing us to not only keep one eye out for such blessing from above, but also where we placed our shoes as we wandered down the street as well.

My father kept his eyes watching the dark places and the potential criminal elements that had their eyes on us as well. While he had it hidden upon his person and it remained out of sight my father never forgot the silver piece of merchandise that had brought us here. Thankfully a common village merchant followed by two young boys hardly made an appetizing target to those of lesser moral conviction.

I did catch out of the corner of my eye someone across the street as he emerged from a shadowy patch of an alleyway just as we passed by on the other side of the street. My whole face turned to regard this stranger who I immediately noted was another of the colorful Vistani from the way he was dressed. Furthermore I could see he was regarding our group with more than just casual interest as well. While the intensity of his gaze made me feel uncomfortable, I could not reconcile any danger he might pose to us with the fact that he had knowingly stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself rather than staying where he was and continuing to observe us without the chance of being observed in return. I was about to mention this man to my father when he called to Eldrenn and I telling us not to fall behind. As I turned back once more I noted the gypsy was no longer in sight and by that time we had reached our destination.

The University of Il' Aluk was like a village all unto itself within the confines of the greater city. Its entire acres of facilities and grounds were surrounded by a wall every bit as high and secure as the one that defended the town. Entrance past this barrier was only granted at the four gates, each laid out along the various compass points sides of the campus. Each gate was manned as well by a quartet of soldiers who wore the livery of the University itself and not that of the city watch. Such deterrent measures I guessed would not stop a determined thief from gaining access, but I am certain it would keep out all the other riffraff such as those who had too much to drink and needed somewhere peaceful to sleep this off.

In a similar process to when we entered the city, we were again challenged at the west gate of the university as well as to our business. This time my father was prepared with his story and said he had official business with the representatives of the Church of Erza who were here attending a conference. The fact that he knew who he wished to see, though perhaps not their names, and that he was obviously informed the theological conference was taking place here on the grounds was enough validation in the minds of the soldiers that my father's business was legitimate enough to take the chance and allow entry. It probably also helped that Eldrenn and I were present as well since few bandits and thieves bring their children with them when they go out to perform their nefarious work.

The guard at the gate gave us directions to the theological hall, which of course was still clear over on the other side of the campus. This allowed us an opportunity to walk though the well maintained grounds and see a more normal level of activity similar to our village than the dog eat dog bustle of city life beyond the walls of this facility. In fact, it was so much more like what we were accustomed to that my father allowed us to stay in this general area, though not to enter any of the buildings he said, and entertain ourselves by climbing trees or doing whatever young boys find enjoyment with in such environments. He could not promise how soon he would return, only that if it appeared it would take another day to get his audience with the clergy he would return to us in time to see about supper at the inn. Our lunch was going to be restricted to the warm rolls with melted cheese my father had bought us along the way here from a street vendor.

Giving us one last direction to stay out of trouble my father headed off to attend to his business and I watched his course until he entered the hall his directions had sent him to. It was not so much that I was afraid to lose him, but if our presence was questioned by any members of campus security or faculty of the university I felt it was a good idea to be able to convince them that I did know where my father was and that we were not just local boys who had jumped over the wall to play here in the park. If that did not convince any of the would be inquiring minds, I felt it was good to know where best to flee too in just such an emergency.

Eldrenn and I wandered in the local area at first, and as we explored and saw all there was to see in one area we slowly expanded our explorations further and further afield. We tried to stay out of everyone's way and whenever possible beneath their notice as well since they were all seemingly in a rush. In fact for an hour we watched the movements of those nearby and tried to guess from their movements and what they carried where they were headed.

We laughed as we watched one professor who seemed in a rush to get to class or some similar type event drop an entire armload of books, not once but twice when young students, or so we assumed, called out their greetings to him and he immediately waved back. I suspect this was a common occurrence because it appeared to me from their posture that the students had done so expecting this would be the ultimate result and all laughed aloud when it happened. I will note neither group of students offered to help him pick all the books up either just continued on their own way.

The roving patrols of university security spotted us as well and while we young boys seemed a bit out of place at a college, the fact we did not appear to be doing anything that should warrant further investigation on their part was enough of a reason for them to move on without coming to question us. This was good because I was not certain we could outrun these individuals if it came down to it.

After an hour or two Eldrenn and I began to notice individuals and small groups migrating slowly toward one particular area of the grounds where the trees were a little more dense and obstructed complete view to what lay beyond more so than other areas of the university did. Not having anything else to draw our attention away we found ourselves casually and quietly following behind, not in a rush since we were uncertain if this were perhaps some school related event, but also interested to see what had the attention of at least a score of so of people to bring them all together.

As we got close I saw the familiar shape and bright colors of a Vistani wagon for no one else has such distinctive transport. I looked to my partner Eldrenn and smiled knowing that even one such conveyance was likely to have at least a few performers like the knife throwing brothers who did not mind putting on such an entertaining demonstration for a few copper coins. I actually hoped I would see Marta so I could report our success from last year, but as we got closer I could see the images painted on this wagon were different from what I remembered of hers.

I sensed that the crowd that surrounded this wagon was more on edge and nervous than those villagers we had seen up in Staunton Bluffs last year. While there seemed to be a general interest in the Vistani, more than one of the score or so people who stood around the wagon would look around nervously every few minutes as if they expected their parents to catch them being naughty. One man even seemed to look closely at Eldrenn and me as if we were perhaps illusions or demons that had come to check up on him. Being boys we ignored his stares until he turned back to his own business as well.

I was disappointed to note that there were no gypsy performances taking place here nor did it appear there was likely going to be. In fact I soon found the single wagon only held three gypsies in total. Two of these were middle aged men with the look about them that they could handle either hard manual labor or violence without batting an eye. The third was an aged woman who always stayed within the wagon though her voice carried to those of us outside when she deemed it necessary.

We did see soon that this group like the ones from last year was also seeking funds by performing entertainment or services depending upon one's perspective on such things. Instead of flashy shows for the crowd such as the young woman's dancing had been, the men here spoke in soft but convincing tones that their grandmother was a powerful seer and that for a fair price, one which they whispered to each individual so I know not if there was a standard rate, she would provide the answer to any question about the individual's future if they had the courage and dared to hear it.

One of the nervous men, in fact the very one who had taken interest in Eldrenn and I, listened to the quoted price and then tried to barter the payment lower. When that failed he reluctantly agreed to the fee and was in the process of turning over the monies only to be stopped in mid-count by the aged yet steady voice of the old woman calling out from within the trailer. "Save your money Lanthan Millson for I will not speak aloud of the evil fate that awaits you. Go now to your home and speak a word to no one until sundown if you wish to avoid this destiny." Her words trailed off and while the man stuttered to speak or protest this treatment, the two Vistani men turned their backs to him until finally he departed in a huff as he had been directed to.

The next one brave enough to take action was a girl who could not be much more than five or six years older than Eldrenn and I. The price she was quoted caused her a moment of consideration and then without anyone seeing what it cost her, she counted out the required number of coins with her back to us all and handed this to the nearest gypsy man. In the transfer I could hear by their tinkling that the price was more that two coins though if it was three or thirty I can only speculate. I also cannot say if they were copper, silver, or even gold she paid for I have no way of knowing.

The gypsy man accepted the coins and did not even look at the payment as he slipped it in his own leather drawstring purse and then pointed to the wagon's single door. While the girl was undoubtedly nervous she paused only for a moment at the base of the steps to take a steadying breath before climbing into the wagon and behind the obscuring curtains. I can report that there were no blood curling screams or even any conversation that we could hear being less than ten feet away. Perhaps the two whispered since the question about one's future could be truly personal and not something one wanted to share. Or perhaps the thick curtains muffled the sounds within, with or without the aid of magic.

The rest of the crowd, the pair of us boys included, stood silently awaiting the girl's return. Perhaps some wanted to judge her reaction as a means to see if the answers she had received were worth the price she had paid. Others may have just wanted to see if she returned at all. Eldrenn and I had nothing better to do so we waited patiently just to learn how this story ended.

After ten minutes or so the girl emerged once more, physically whole and healthy of body, but still perhaps a bit shaken from the experience by the way she held onto the side of the wagon as she descended the three steps. Her eyes though seemed filled with an even mix of wonder and caution, each fighting for dominance.

As she stepped through the semicircle of onlookers another woman, older by a decade at least asked the girl a question in a whisper so not to insult the Vistani standing near by. Eldrenn and I happened to be standing right beside the two so we could also overhear the exchange. "Did she really have an answer to your question?" The young girl paused in her internal recollections for a moment, only long enough to give her elder a quick glance and barely perceivable nod before the girl reached the outer ring of people and began to step away back toward the school buildings as fast as she could without actually running or drawing attention to herself.

Laughter, not quite scornful, came from inside the wagon. "Do you have faith enough now Professor Kelly Westridge?" The woman standing beside us froze in place, seemingly shocked that her name had been called out. For a moment I thought she too would bolt from the scene perhaps even overtaking the younger girl, but this acknowledgement of her name and the challenge by which it was offered seemed enough to convince the older woman to fork over whatever sum the second gypsy man named without a further moment's consideration. Showing the same level of determination she boldly strode up the wagon steps and let the curtain fall behind her.

I must admit that I myself grew bored a bit as we waited for once again the payment had obviously been multiple coins. I knew neither Eldrenn nor I had such funs to spend on this activity so perhaps it was time to pull ourselves back away from the circle and let other potential paying customers assume our spots since the Vistani were working. My father asked the same of others when he was selling and this seemed like a similar courtesy to offer in this case. I was just about to suggest such a thing when the professor returned from the wagon positively glowing by whatever she had heard.

She too did not pause to speak to the rest of us about what she had been told and I figured if it was not an issue of individual privacy, then perhaps it was a promise a customer was forced to make before being told the answer to their question so that they would not negatively influence others who might pay to instead turn away and the Vistani thereby lose these funds. Regardless, while her reaction was different from the first woman's, except in her own excitement she bumped into me before offering an apology and running off, it still did not change the fact that Eldrenn and I could not afford such a reading and were forced to turn away.

"So the mighty ghost hunters of Staunton Bluffs fear an old woman with her deck of cards?" The voice openly mocked us and confused the rest of the crowd. Eldrenn and I looked to each other in confusion until finally I determined it must be Marta in the wagon for only she would have connected the two of us with those events last year.

"It is not fear mistress but a lack of funds for so valuable a gift." I offered back diplomatically.

"Prove your courage boys." The voice called. "Come inside the wagon and we will negotiate a fair price for the answers you seek."

While I was stunned, as was Eldrenn, by the offer I did not fear such a thing. In fact I thought it a crafty way for Marta to speak with us again and not seem like we were being presented any special favors in the process. Eldrenn's wide open eyes and slow consenting nod matched my own emotions so the pair of us also climbed up the stairs to the shock of others in the crowd. At the top the curtain, which I found in fact was made of felt so it did have some ability not only to conserve heat but muffle the sounds made within, was easily drawn aside and we found a cleared path to two open benches sitting before a table upon which sat a large and elaborately decorated set of cards. Of the occupant of the wagon there was no sign though another black felt curtain beyond the table separated the large wagon into a second 'room' of a sort so I assumed she was beyond this wall.

We each took a seat and silence descended upon us as we did not know whether we were intended to speak or if our manners were being judged. Finally though after a long protracted delay, the other woman's voice spoke aloud once more.

"So Rudolph Van Richten and Eldrenn Van Dorn of Rivalis, what would you offer for an answer to any question you can devise?"

The fact that the speaker knew our names made me sure that Marta was behind the curtain teasing us. If so it meant she thought of us as friends or at least not normal customers, so I was more relaxed in my own response. "Do you have another ghost story to tell us so that we might put a spirit to rest for you once more?"

There was along pause then she responded. "You speak of Marta Boem, the granddaughter of my niece." The woman's voice informed us. "She is young and impetuous sometimes but her heart is in the right place. She is also now many hundreds of miles from here."

I quickly worked the likely age out of the woman in my mind based on this information and wondered if the woman behind the curtain was possibly in her tenth century of life. If so her voice seemed far more spry than many others of my elders who were only half this age. I wondered then if perhaps the Vistani spoke of their relations in different terms than those I was used to and this caused my confusion instead.

"But perhaps young Van Richten you have hit upon a fair exchange for the answers that you seek."

"Putting another spirit to rest?"

"Not necessarily…" She spoke after a moment. "Let us say performing a service for the Vistani in exchange for your answer."

I thought that over for a moment but before anything came to mind Eldrenn spoke up first. "It cannot be anything illegal like stealing from our family or friends." He counter offered to define the boundaries of such an open ended request.

The woman beyond the curtain only laughed at this. "That is acceptable young Van Dorn." She chuckled some more. "Were I to seek something so foolish I can assure you much to my own regret that I have far superior villains related to me to call upon than a pair of still innocent boys as yourselves."

I looked at Eldrenn and knew the look of intrigue he wore on his face was undoubtedly reflected on my own visage as well. I gave him my own slight nod as he did the same motioning for me to be the one to speak of our acceptance of the terms of this deal. But this left me wondering what it was that I would ask that would be worthy of such an exchange? Was there one question I most wanted the answer to? In truth how would I narrow the endless questions that regularly roamed my mind to just a single one?

"We accept the offer of a single service in exchange for our answers." I responded thinking I had been clever in wording it in such a way as to only pay one service for two answers. The fact that the woman only chuckled in response made me wonder if perhaps she expected and accepted this offer even as she had made it.

Eldrenn seemed confused on what to ask as well but finally he seemed to settle upon a question and spoke up without asking my opinion first.

"My father expects me to follow in his footsteps." He started by way of an explanation. I knew that during the winter months the elder Van Dorn had started making his son participate in the early aspects of creating silver items. While some of the work had been interesting, Eldrenn had confided in me that it was not a career he was interested in pursuing, though he still did not want to disappoint his father by telling him so.

"I feel though that I am destined for something more." He continued. "Can you tell me which the proper course for me to follow is?"

There was a pause of silence, which I expect was in part to increase the drama of the moment and make the answer seem worth the price we were paying. Had she merely said 'be a good boy and honor your father's wishes' we likely would have thought our exchange for a service had been a poor sale on our part. I also figured it was vital for us to agree whatever we learned was worth the price we paid so more customers waiting outside now would agree to pay the fee that is requested of them.

"Draw a single card from the deck on the table before you and turn it over and lay it before you." The mysterious voice directed.

Eldrenn reached forward and touched the stack of cards carefully at first, seeming to pull back as if he sensed something odd about them before getting his courage up and spreading the deck out so he might draw a card from within its ranks. He pulled the desired card forth slowly, using only the tips of his fingers either to avoid its feel or because he respected the potential that the card held for his future. Once free of its companions Eldrenn turned the card face up so that it lay before him on the table.

I looked at the card and saw the image of a castle tower being struck and broken from it base by a massive bolt of lightning. Within one lit window could be seen the shadowy form of an occupant who it appeared to me at least was seconds away from his rather gruesome death.

"You have drawn The Tower young Van Dorn." The voice spoke providing an appropriate name to an otherwise undefined image on a thin placard of wood. I looked at the curtain and wondered how she could see such a thing for there was no movement in its hanging folds that one would expect if he had split it for a moment to take a look. Nor were there any subtle telltale motions in response to her breathing if the old woman perhaps was peeking through a hole somewhere in its mass to look at us.

"It is a card of crisis and conflict, but also of upsetting the established order." She explained and in truth I could see how the image presented accurately portrayed all these concepts at the same time.

"The answer to the question you seek is that for a time you will follow your father's wishes." I could see Eldrenn's face deflate ever so slightly at this statement. "But there will come a day a few years from now when the spark that you feel inside of you will be coaxed to ignite into a full fledged flame. Then you will have the choice of what you will make for yourself."

Eldrenn smiled at this as if it meant even more to him than just the words we both just heard. But his smile was cut off by a final word of caution from our hostess. "Remember always Eldrenn Van Dorn that no one can control the element of fire. The flame that serves you today may burn you tomorrow. Respect it and it shall respect you. Take its gifts for granted and you will feel the heat of its displeasure."

Eldrenn nodded at this warning though in truth he seemed to me to be like any boy of our age who knew such council would never actually apply to him. We are filled at that age of learning all we are capable of, not the wisdom of if we should put these talents to use. But I remember upon hearing this answer and digesting it for a moment that he sat back and smiled at some inner secret he had been keeping all to himself.

"What of your own question young Rudolph, are you prepared to hear its answer?" The voice asked as if she already knew what it was that I was going to ask. "One such as you so brave to settle an ancient wrong can not fear a mere old woman and her card tricks now can you?" She laughed once more neither mocking to enrage me nor trying to lighten my spirits and hurry me on. Instead it seemed merely that my actions or this entire situation somehow was entertaining to her.

I tried not to focus upon this and instead place my efforts toward deciding upon what my own question should be. And while I did indeed have hundreds running through my mind only a short time ago I could not think of even a single one now that it was my turn to ask. Instead my thoughts turned once more to our hostess and the way her voice seemed to convey that she seemed so certain to know what it was I would ask of her even though I did not. Alas as this merely served to frustrate me all the more I turned to Eldrenn who was still in his own world and no help to me and then blurted out my own question. "Since you have told him his future occupation, what career path does your future sight see for me to take?"

The laughter stopped so abruptly that I thought I had in some way made a grievous error or breach of protocol. But I thought over my words again and again quickly in the following moments of silence and could find nothing in them or even the tone that they were delivered with that could reasonably be taken as an offense.

Finally her voice spoke in a manner that shook me to the very core of my being. It was almost as if I was in the presence of a divine being and my soul was being judged. "Rudolph Van Richten draw a single card from the deck on the table before you and lay it before you face up." Her words almost the exact same as those spoken to Eldrenn but now I felt them, not heard them, but felt them resonate within me.

My hand reached forward almost of its own accord and instead of filtering through the deck as my best friend had done I drew the very top card from the pile and laid it there before me. In fact I was so surprise by my actions that I focused solely on my seemingly independent arm rather than the card that was the result of its actions. It was only when I was certain my hand was suddenly and assuredly under my own control once more and actually had been all along that I stopped to look at the picture displayed.

The brightly painted card, unlike the dark and sinister Tower, showed a young man, seemingly carefree and with a smile plastered wide upon his face, strolling without concern or even notice that he was about to step off of a cliff and fall into clouds that lay below him. While Eldrenn's card had seemed almost menacing, this one instead filled me with a sense of harmony though my rationale mind tried to reject it.

"You have drawn The Fool young Van Richten." The voice spoke its name and this made me blanch inside. "It is the card of those at the beginning of enlightenment who will one day change the very world around them. You hold in your hands the lives of many others though you know this not. It will fall to you to be the greatest healer that many in these lands have long waited and even prayed for to arrive."

I was shocked by such a declaration for even in my dreams I had never once thought of myself in such a way. The closest to a healer I was aware of was my aunt with her wide array of tonics and cures, none of which to date had proven to be to be good for much more than bad breath, and I speak of creating this effect not curing it. These were reason enough to run fleeing from my own home when I learned she was coming over to our house in response to my mother saying I had sneezed!

My reminiscing was cut off by the voice of our hostess once more. "This card also has a special warning that comes with it young Van Richten." She spoke in the tone my mother used when she knew I was about to do something imprudent but which required I learn from experience. "It says simply 'When ignorance is bliss, tis folly to be wise.'" The laugh I was expecting at the end of this comment never came this time even as I pondered on the words for a moment of silence.

We sat there in silence digesting all we had heard when I noted the old woman suck in a breath, much like one would do if they had a splinter of some such minor injury. I thought to ask after to health but she interrupted me with a far more urgent statement of her own. "You must leave this very moment boys and go forth immediately to find Rudolph's father. Speak only the truth this day to all questions you are given and tell my grandsons outside these walls that General Athoul comes."

Her tone of voice and demand brooked no questions from us and we both were standing up and even out beyond the curtain in response to her concern before I even registered in my mind all she had said. I could see one man, likely a scholar by his age and dress, who looked expectantly at us for our reaction to our own encounter inside the wagon, and more than a little annoyed perhaps that we had taken as long as we did. The others present simply looked at us to see if we would give away any of the mystery of what took place behind the curtains of the wagon itself.

"We are bid by your grandmother to tell you that General Athoul approaches." I said seeing the normal calm and colorful gypsy to whom I spoke pale before my very eyes.

I likely would have stopped to observe the full effect of this were it not for his grandmother's order to us and the scholar's words in response to my own. "Kargat!" He said aloud while taking a step back from me as if I were offering him the plague. He turned to the others present who were now all staring at him as the current center of attention. "Flee you fools the Kargat are on their way." Making no effort at a dignified departure the scholar bolted from our present and back toward the open areas of the campus.

The others gathered here seemed no less in haste at this warning and with hardly a word to any others present except perhaps those they had arrived with to do so as well, the crowd dispersed to all points of the compass with obvious fear at whatever I had started in my warning to the gypsies. This emotion of panic was contagious as far as Eldrenn and I were concerned as well and we too scampered through he woods and back toward the more familiar grounds where my father had expected us to await his return.

I noted almost immediately that these grounds that had been subject to nearly constant traffic less than an hour before now seemed far too empty and therefore foreboding. It was as if night were falling here in Darkon and people were preparing for the worst, but the sun in reality stood high above us and the sky showed no signs of darkening any time soon. But of course not all dark creatures require such darkness.

From the outer wall that surrounded the campus, the one I had earlier assumed was built so high that it would deter entrance by any but a master thief, a half dozen gangly creatures leapt from its summit to the lawn and spread out not so much to catch the pair of us, but rather to halt our flight and perhaps herd us back the way we come from. Seeing the yellow look in their eyes and the deathly gray pallor of their skin we recognizing them for ghouls; creature who had a fully developed taste for human flesh, preferably dead but sometime still alive if that were all that was currently available. Their presence was enough to convince both Eldrenn and myself that the path in the woods we had just come from was a better choice than the road to my father that lay before us. We turned back eager to lose them in the woods.

That fleeting sense of hope lasted less than a minute before we saw more such creatures herding a score or so of others who for the most part all had similar and recognizable faces from the small crowd that had stood outside the gypsy wagon. There were a few new additions that I did not recognize who were fleeing like the rest of us but I had no sympathy for them at the moment since we all seemed destined for a similar fate. The ghouls though did not seem eager to take any of us down, even the old scholar who had been the first to flee, even when it was obvious they could have attacked out by himself and all alone at any time. Instead the creatures seemed content just to harass our attempts at flight and laugh at our panic.

We all stopped in the very same small clearing where we had just had our fortune read, and much to my surprise the Vistani, their animals, and even their wagon were no longer there. Nor was there any immediate evidence of where these had all gone. The ring of ghouls had us all trapped with their circle and I do not think it was possible these hunters could have missed so large a vehicle regardless which direction it had fled. But a sudden charge in the very air around us announced a new arrival to the clearing and the fate of the Vistani wagon was no longer in the forefront in my mind.

General Athoul, for that could only be the name for the being that now entered the circle of ghouls and came up to us, was an imposing figure with a solemn stare that did not seem open to anything less than complete and total obedience. His eyes held the look of power and I knew that this was a man who would not be trifled with. Most striking of all to me was that General Athoul was also a ghost.

At some unspoken command a set of four ghouls who were not part of the hunting party stepped into the clearing as well and in the midst of these four was yet another all too familiar figure. "Where are the Vistani you told me of Lanthan Millson?" The ghost spoke in an accusing tone while his 'soldiers' tossed the man to the ground at the ghost's feet, well at least where feet would have been had the ghost actually had any.

The man who had been sent away by the gypsies now looked dartingly around the clearing hoping to find them to appease the ghostly anger being directed his way. But seeing that the clearing obvious held no such evidence for him to point to he turned to pleading. "Ask them Lord!" He begged. "Make them tell you all that happened here and then you will see I did not speak falsely to you my Lord."

The undead spectral being looked down at the wretched man at his feet with an obvious look of complete repugnance on his face as if he had found something disgusting on the bottom of his shoes, that of course also only if he actually still wore such things. But still the words were a seemingly logical statement to the ghost who turned to regard the assembled group of us. "Is what he says true?" The voice from beyond the grave asked. "Were Vistani here not long ago?"

None of the others were willing to meet the ghost's gaze as his question hung in the air. Some seemed to want to deny this accusation but apparently feared the results of getting caught in such a situation if others admitted to it so decided silence was their better choice. But such a course was not one that Eldrenn and I could subscribe to. Instead we decided instead to follow the advice the Vistani woman had told us before sending us on our way since she had proven to be right in everything else so far.

"What he says is true my lord." I spoke aloud drawing the attention of everyone to me. I wanted to wither under the direct gaze of this ghostly general but thankfully I did no such thing. "There were Vistani here a few minutes ago, but how they departed and where they went I cannot say."

The other detainees in the clearing looked at us with a mixture of outrage and fear while Lanthan Millson now sat up and actually smiled that someone, anyone in fact, had confirmed his story. "You see General Athoul I only came to serve you as a good Kargante should."

His words, and especially the odd one 'Kargante' drew the ghost's full attention back to the man at his feet. "Do not presume that your service to me rates such an honorable title dog." He spoke down menacingly at the man at his feet. "You are an informant, merely a rodent, as far as I am concerned." He spat if such a being was capable of this skill. "You would do well not to ever forget such."

When Lanthan's eyes refused to meet those of the General the ghost shifted its gaze once more back to Eldrenn and I, the only two willing to now actually meet his gaze. I realized then that the charm Marta had provided us last year was unnaturally warm against my chest. "You do not fear me boys?" He asked somewhat surprised. "Do you not know who I am and the power at my command?" His words were filled with intrigue rather than rage or disappointment at this turn of events.

"No my lord." I responded honestly. "But we are from Rivalis so perhaps your fame has not reached our small village." I assumed by his manner and the reaction of others that he was a man, or was formerly a man, of importance who still wielded a significant share of power. While the others seemed to plead to us for their sakes if not our own to be silent, the ghost did the unexpected. He began to laugh.

"Perhaps you are right." He said between chuckles. "Let us simply say I am an agent of Lord Azalin. I assume even in Rivalis THAT is a name to which you are familiar?" He asked to which both Eldrenn and I eagerly nodded in response.

"Very good boys." He said then turned again to Mr. Millison. "Stand up Lanthan." The ghost directed and the man scrambled to his feet to fulfill the order he had been given. But the ghost's eyes had come back to the pair of us already.

"I want you to tell me about the Vistani boys." The spectral general folded his arms behind his back and looked seriously but not threateningly at us as he spoke. "The gypsies are spies who work against the rule of our king and are under a penalty of death for even entering our land. Did you know that?" He asked and seemed satisfied when we both shook our heads negatively.

"I see." He pondered for a moment. "It appears there is a breakdown in the passing of the king's proclamations to the outlying communities so I can hardly hold you to blame for that can I?" He said and grew silent in his deliberations once more. Finally he seemed to seize on an idea and spoke up once more.

"Boys I want you to tell me everything you saw and heard from the moment you first set eyes on the Vistani until the second you left their presence, do you understand?" Once again we merely nodded or it did not seem he wanted us to speak just yet even though that was the very order he was giving to us.

"Leave out not a word, especially if they mentioned Azalin, Strahd, or Barovia." He paused and assumed a more serious look. "It is vital that you speak only the whole and complete truth in these matters. Do you understand me boys?" He asked once more and once again we could only nod.

"Since you do not know me let me make that statement one more time so that there is no doubt we are clear on this." The general paused and looked us both in the eyes. Then faster than our eyes could follow his right hand came out from behind his back and plunged into the back and out the chest of Lanthan Millson, his fingers wiggling to show us he had done so on purpose for our demonstration.

Lanthan's body convulsed in place and while he tried to scream only a wet gargle came from his mouth. Before our eyes though we watched in horror as his hair turned gray and his skin grew wrinkled and pallid in but a few hastened breaths. In seconds a man in his third decade of life suddenly aged to one nearing his sixth, and each second or so thereafter added another decade to his body. After only ten seconds the ghost withdrew his arm and a crumpled mass of wasted flesh and bones fell back to the ground where it had sat moments ago, their former owner no longer having use for them and the ghost not even interested enough in his handiwork to observe where they fell. "Once more I request of you to speak only the truth in all of these matters. Do you understand?"

We nodded enthusiastically and immediately fell into our story starting from our arrival here at the college to the very point we were standing there before him leaving nothing out of our recollections. There were two awkward moments where he interrupted our telling. The first was when he had us pause and describe in as much detail as we could recall the color scheme and pictures that were painted on the side of the wagon. While we could only remember bits and pieces what we said seemed to be enough to confirm whatever thought the ghost had in his mind. He spoke only a single word aloud in an angry menacing tone. "Zarovan!"

The second such moment was when we described the agreed upon payment for our readings. Then General Athoul gave us a very serious and stern look that made us both blanch and look at our feet. But after a moment I assume he determined that two eleven year old village boys hardly represented much of threat to our king so any service asked of us in the future would likewise be of little concern to him so he bid us to finish our story.

We finished our tale completely making the ghost smile in entertainment value of our telling, but he was in fact the only one in the clearing doing so. We had not accused any of the others of any crime to which I was aware so we could see collective sighs that at least as far as our portion was concerned, there would be no repercussions for any of them.

General Athoul paused for his own deliberations at the end of our tale until finally settling upon his course of action to follow. Without saying a word to anyone I saw his eyes moving from person to person making each shudder under the withering stare of his undead gaze even though they did no look at his before once again turning to the pair of us. "Very good." He said aloud. "There are seventeen of you including the two boys." I realized at that moment he had been counting us with his look not solely trying to make us more uncomfortable. Though now I wondered if perhaps the very good comment was not directed at Eldrenn and me for our honesty.

"I have made my decision." He spoke to the assembled mass of not just the seventeen living but also the more than two dozen undead that surrounded us at that moment as well. He turned once more to Eldrenn and me. "For your honesty and because you are not from Il' Aluk but rather in the countryside I will allow the pair of you to go free. I recommend you seek out your father post haste and convince him that it would be good to move on soon so as not to inadvertently become involved in a second such incident. Forgiveness because of ignorance is rarely given once and never given twice by any who act under my command."

We bowed and stumbled backwards, the ghouls making an opening for us as we backed slowly away. "But boys do me a personal favor and make sure you tell your friends and families all of what occurred here this day." He said in a tone as light and polite as one could be which seemed at striking odds with his horrible and menacing undead state. "It will do this old soldier's heart good to know his reputation is being properly spread to those in the land it is his duty to protect." This request made us pause outside the circle of undead so we might record the rest as he had demanded of us.

"The rest of you will accompany me back to our barracks for further questioning." I could see the knees of more than one of the citizens go weak at this declaration and could only assume that the questioning would not be pleasant. "The Zarovan are the most meddlesome of all the Vistani and they would not have come here without a specific cause of their own or of their master's. Since we know from their story the boys are hardly worthy of such attention I can only assume it is one of you they had an interest in." With a wave of his hand pairs of ghouls stepped forward and lifted those unable to walk while the rest of the undead formed into a tighter perimeter to demonstrate attempts at escape would meet serious repercussions. "I will take great pleasure in determining which of you are to be imprisoned for your mere stupidity and which shall be executed for treason."

Another man collapsed at this point causing further shuffle among the undead forces to accommodate yet another who needed assistance to keep up once they started marching. "But since there are fifteen of you let me offer this to show my benevolence to those who make simple mistakes and to those who truly show they understand the error of their ways." His eyes ran once more across the crowd. "Whichever two of you shall provide me with the most useful information, not only about these events here today, but also any other plots or conspiracies you have heard or, those who have spoken up or criticized our good king, or even any regular crimes in general shall also be set free to resume their lives once more."

The spectral ghost reached down and tried to lift the remains of poor Lanthan Millson in his hand as a demonstration but the body aged even further and fell apart before he was able to get it up to his waste. "As you can see I am always on the lookout for good new informants since for some reason the ones that I get often become unreliable over time and must be let go." His was the only voice in the clearing that laughed at his joke.

Sighing in resignation he ordered his troops and their 'honored guests' forward to return back to the barracks. Eldrenn and I watched them over our shoulders as we scampered back toward the building that housed my father so we could fulfill the general's orders.

Be it luck or fate but my father had just exited the Hall of Theology and was heading toward us at that moment. We ran to him and in gasps of breath told him all that had occurred and the suggestion the general had provided to leave soon that we were able. Thankfully father agreed completely and we turned and headed toward the university gate at a brisk yet not hurried pace. I noted my father seemed a bit burdened while trying to keep up and could only assume this was an indication of the success he had in selling the silver icon. He also directed us to say no more about any of this until we were back at the inn and alone in our room.

I noted one last building that we passed on our departure back into the city proper and it suddenly brought me back to think on things in a different light. Somehow I could not stop myself from saying words even though I knew my father preferred we walk in silence. "When I am old enough father I would like to become a doctor."

He looked at me for only a moment before turning back to his course. "We can talk about that when we get back home." He said neither denying me outright nor openly accepting this idea at the moment, though I know not if this was because of other things on his mind or because boys my age changed their dreams as often as, or more often even than they changed their socks.

Back at the inn in the privacy of our room, and only then in the volume level of whispers my father had us relate all that had occurred which we did immediately without question. In turned for our story I learned from my father as well that Kargat referred to a secret society, perhaps a secret policing force or enforcers, that worked directly for King Azalin. They were supposedly his arm among the population when the king was distracted with other of his wizardly pursuits. The Kargatane were agents of the Kargat, individual fingers of the hand so to speak. Both groups were to be avoided by anyone with sense who lived in Darkon.

By the next morning we had left town and were heading back toward home, not to stay but rather to drop off the large amount of coins my father had received for the silver holy symbol. He told us that we should not speak of these events again to anyone, and I was told especially not to say anything to my mother for the worry it would cause her. Eldreen and I nodded in agreement and up until this recording here in my journal I had never before spoken of all these events to honor that promise to my father.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Fool **89

Sometime in the Summer of Year 683 Corvia, Darkon Chapter 4

The rest of my eleventh year and into the beginning of my twelfth was one I recall of happy times though nothing sticks out in my mind overly much. After our encounter with the Kargat, Eldrenn and I did remarkably well at not drawing further attention to ourselves for the remainder of that year's journeys that took place after we had stopped by Rivalis to drop off the unexpected level of wealth the holy icon piece had brought.

I do remember at times being concerned and not being able to easily shake off the feeling. I knew we had made a promise to the Vistani and they did not seem a people who looked favorably on those who reneged on a deal. In truth the lessons of business and life that my father had bestowed upon me made me hesitant to even consider such an action anyway. After almost every sale or deal that we observed he always seemed to repeat a mantra of 'a man is only as good as his word' or something similar that struck home with me because of this situation Eldrenn and I had agreed to.

Of course we had not known at the time how the Vistani were viewed by our king or that the Kargat and Kargatane even existed when we made such a pledge. I knew that by telling General Athoul of our deal that he knew the potential existed these gypsies would try sometime to reach out to us so that we could settle our debt. When I saw individuals in any town we visited pay more attention to me than I thought normal I began to wonder if those showing such interest were perhaps an informant, or worse still actual members of one of these groups', who were keeping an eye on the both of us; perhaps using Eldrenn and I to lure the Vistani in so they might capture them. I must say the idea of being bait made me uncomfortable after each such likely innocent encounter and cost me many hours of restless sleep. Since that point I have always had sympathy for worms.

The other highlight from that year was the numerous discussions my occupational declaration stirred among the member of my immediate family. For the record my aunt also considered herself part of my immediate family since she had no one of her own. Normally I was less than pleased with this added association, but in this one case I let the ends justify the means so supported her inclusion for this discussion.

It started mostly as a 'you will not believe what Rudolph says he wants to do with his life' comment from my father which I can fairly argue is hardly an objective way to broach the subject. Perhaps if I had said I to him I wished to run off and join a carnival, or seek to become a sailor, or perhaps a bard that makes up stories for children then he might have been able to be disappointed in my choice. But choosing to follow a medical profession was still seen as a high calling, one equal in my land to that of a mage or priest. Truth be told it was at least a level or two higher on the local social scale than being a successful merchant as well.

Thankfully when he followed up his biased introduction by proclaiming my intention the reaction he received was not the one of outright scandal and righteous indignation he had been expecting. No sooner were the words 'a doctor of all things' floating through the air when my aunt, who is my father's older sister by the way, spoke up in response. "That is wonderful Rudolph!" She even clapped her hands in excitement before continuing as she looked at me. "I even suspect your desires in this have no little part to do with my own vast knowledge of this subject."

I ask you how was I supposed to respond to such a statement with dozens of memories of tonics and concoctions forced down my throat and not a one of them tasting even remotely palatable. "I would most definitely have to agree with you there." I said to my aunt with a smile on my face, knowing that if she interpreted this to mean I wanted to dish out snake oil as well then that was her misinterpretation. My agreement though put my aunt firmly in my corner and left only my mother to possibly help support my decision.

She looked at me, a bit annoyed at my response for she knew all too well what my feelings were on my aunt's remedies. She also knew that my father hoped that I would follow in his footsteps and take over the business he had established and serve all his contacts he had made. In part this was a common hope of most fathers in Darkon regardless of what field of occupation they were in. The rest was because my dad was a good man and honestly cared about the friendships he had made and it was his hope to ensure his customers' needs were still being fulfilled long after he could no longer travel and see to them himself.

But my mother was also pragmatic enough not to let purely emotional reasons cloud so important a decision so she weighed in with an answer that seemed to strengthen both sides of the discussion. "Rudolph is only eleven years old Otto." She said in a condescending near whisper to my father. "He will likely change his mind a dozen times in the coming years until he must finally make a lasting choice." This reality made my father grin for which parent had not heard similar dreams of the future spoken by their children as I myself had. And in truth he knew from his own experience which parent had not said similar things themselves when they were a child.

To me though my mother added a final statement that seemed to indicate she was actually on my side. "In then end though Otto it ill be Rudolph's decision to make. We can only hope we raised him to make the correct one." With a wink to me that my father did not see I knew from that day forward that I would become a doctor.

The rest of a year passed with little of note except that I became far more diligent in my studies as did Eldrenn, especially where reading and writing were concerned. My mother was immensely pleased by this display of studious dedication and pointed it out to my father as a good byproduct of my dream to be a doctor every time he tried to broach the subject at dinner and sway my mind on the issue. Finally, like any good salesman, he decided that his best chance to close the deal would be fully demonstrate the product and let the customers sell themselves on it.

Since twelve years of age was a respectable time to truly start an apprenticeship in some careers my father decided that it was time for me as well. This is the one time in my life that I actually wished my father was a blacksmith for their job training for blacksmith's sons usually only began once the boys had finished growing so the physical strains involved in the job did not cause their bodies harm.

My father started that year by unrolling a map and a list of goods his clients had ordered from the previous year. He then sat me down and asked my to help him develop the path we would follow this year so that we always had the items our customers had asked for without constantly backtracking and also not wasting valuable wagon space storing something for longer periods of time than were absolutely necessary. Doing the latter only prevented us from carrying more quantities of simple goods that while no one has specifically requested, many were willing to pay for since we happened to have them available and with us. In truth the sales of previously ordered goods would only break dad even for the year after all the expenses were accounted for, it was these additional sales that made the profits to make him successful.

Because I recognized what he was trying to do, and starting into my difficult teen years a bit ahead of my peers, I purposely ignored the normal path my father had worked out year after year and the not so subtle hints that he gave to remind me of our travels from the past two years. But even with my adolescent obstinate attitude I looked on the task as an intellectual challenge and by the end of the second day I had a whole new route planned out that had us travel north rather than south or east first but still met all the requirements he had set for me. In fact my calculations for travel times actually got us home ten days earlier than the previous two years, which made my mother smile, or was ten extra days of commerce which was exciting to my father.

He sent me to bed after I had shown him my results, since I had not even slept since the moment he had issued me this challenge and told me in no uncertain terms that it was unlikely we would follow my course so not to get my hopes up. He did promise to review my findings with an open mind which was enough of a victory for me to accept sleeping for the next twelve hours until late morning the following day.

When I awoke I went in search of my father and found him asleep at the same table where I had worked for thirty six hours straight with his own listed calculations beneath his face being slowly drooled upon between each of his snores. I woke him gently and he realized where he was at after a moment and said that he was going to go to bed and get a few hours of real sleep, but that I was to prepare the wagon to depart tomorrow and inform Eldrenn to be packed and ready to go as well. He also said he had thought it over and decided to let me try out my new plan anyway. As I cleaned up after him I noted one sheet that listed his expected costs from each course and my plan came back nearly fifty gold pieces higher than if we had followed his normal course. I folded that note up with all his other papers and never said a thing about it knowing sometimes the greatest gift a child can give their father is the love and understanding to spare their pride.

We were actually two days ahead of my schedule when we reached the village of Corvia which was the same distance southeast of Il' Aluk that Rivalis was southwest of the capital. I had been to this village four times in the past two years since its primary residents were dwarves who made some of the greatest metal objects in all the lands of Darkon. One such trip always included bringing barrels of hops from eastern farms to Corvia to support the need of so many dwarves, namely supporting the brewing of fine ale. We would leave the village carrying metal ware such as cooking utensils or other requested bronze, iron, copper, or steel objects.

Only rarely did we transport any weapons and then they were usually half a dozen metal daggers. There were other traders who specialized in such things and my father chose to avoid that business accordingly unless one of his long term customers asked for such items specifically.

In lieu of the common stereotype of dwarves the village of Corvia was a rather festive place, full of life and good humor. Its residents were not dour and brooding as I have heard many describe the dwarven folk to be. I myself found them to be friendly, especially once they established your lineage which was important to dwarven culture. My relation to my father, who was universally seen as an upstanding human, which meant nearly as honorable as a dwarf, made me an instant friend to most of the village without even having to say anything further about myself.

As we rode down from the north road carrying three barrels of hops compared to the usual two of previous years my father had a smile on his face for we were actually even ahead in profits from his careful calculations. But as we reached the edge of the walled village we found a pair of stout dwarven guards standing on alert in full battle gear. My father commented upon this oddity and answered Eldrenn's questions that he had only seen such things before when the forces from the land of Falknovia to the south massed on the border to invade our land. Such an event boded ill for travelers and made my father wonder aloud if we should curtail our own travels and head straight for home tomorrow.

As we pulled the horse team to a stop before the gates we saw the two dwarves thoroughly questioning a lone traveler wearing what appeared to me to be an excessive amount of cloth woven into elaborate robes. "Once again good dwarven sirs you must let me enter." He seemed to argue with good humor. "Surely you have heard of Mumford the Magnificent, prestidigitator incomparable, and Diviner of the Seven Secrets?" He asked looking for some recognition in his fancy titles.

But the closer of the dwarves only shook his head. "I am sorry Dumfart the Malfeasant?" The dwarf began poorly mangling the apparent magician's name and causing him to interrupt and repeat it.

"That is Mumford the Magnificent."

"Right, sorry." The dwarf continued. "As I was saying a murder most foul has been committed with the town not two hours ago and we have been told to allow no one to enter or exit this gate until a thorough investigation of the crime scene has been completed. Might I suggest you take a seat in the shade of yonder tree and we will come get you when you may enter the town?" The dwarf was the perfect example of respect in his dealings but his stout armored body and heavy war hammer did not indicate he would be willing to negotiate on these terms. With a slight 'harumph' the mage did exactly as the dwarf had directed him to.

At this point the pair of dwarves turned to us but their stern and serious looks immediately changed to one of smiles. "Otto Van Richten tis good to see your return to Corvia my friend as the town's ale supplies are quickly running far too low for my tastes."

"Geddar Ironheart." My father leapt from the wagon and grasped the dwarf's arm in his own, nearly getting yanked off his feet and into a bear hug between friends. After they separated my dad spoke again. "You know your ale even better than your weapons my friend, though as far as solid drink goes I do not doubt any quantity to you less than a flowing river of the stuff qualifies as running too low."

Both dwarves laughed loudly and outrageously at this comment adding only the words 'too true' when having to pause for a breath. But after a moment the pair and my father turned to more serious affairs now that the established rights of friendship had been reestablished.

"I thought perhaps we were under imminent invasion from Falknovia by the way you were dressed." My father began.

"Bah!" Geddar spoke and then spat on the ground. "Old Bird Head knows better than to try that route again. No we are investigating a murder most foul that occurred not two hours ago." He turned to look more serious at my father not realizing he used the exact same words in describing the event to the mage as well. "You did not perhaps note anyone travelling north in the past few hours did you Otto?"

"No my friend the road was clear until we came upon you and the travelling mage over there we had not seen anyone on the road this day." My father answered.

"Yes that is what Slumlord the Multiscented said as well." Geddar replied with a confirming nod of his head.

"That is Mumford the Magnificent." The mage called from his place sitting beneath the tree.

"Indeed." Geddar replied with a subtle wink to my father. "I offer my apologies for the mistake good sir." He called to the mage then turned his attention back to us. "I have to ask you also to wait over there as well my friend at least until the lords tell us we can open the gates to those who wish to enter since I do not think any will be allowed to leave."

My father nodded in acceptance and with a friendly handshake once more he ordered the horse team to move us over to the trees where the summer grass was tall and tasty for our animals. At least they would not mind the slight delay of entering the town.

As we went to join the travelling mage beneath the tree he stood up and introduced himself once more. "Greeting my friends I am Mumford the Magnificent, prestidigitator incomparable, and Diviner of the Seven Secrets." He bowed in a flourish as if awaiting our applause. Instead only Geddar's voice called from the gate.

"Was that Cleaner of the Seven Sewers?" His voice seemed honestly confused still but I knew he was simply finding an entertaining way to pass the time.

Mumford, to his credit, did not take offense to this but simply smiled and continued on as the straight man in this routine. "No that is Diviner of the Seven Secrets."

"Oh yeah that is right." The dwarf replied and went back to his own thoughts or so it seemed.

"Are you really a mage sir?" Eldrenn asked and seemed in awe of this man before us.

"More than a mere caster of spells, I am a diviner of secrets known only to the gods." He proclaimed with less than a little humility. "Is there some secret you wish revealed, perhaps you would care to know what career lies in your future?" He asked hopefully.

But much to his dismay his positive answer actually seemed to deflate Eldrenn's interest for the mage had offered up the one thing that we had already learned. He seemed a bit taken aback by this reaction but I voiced my own question at this point.

"Sir if you are able to learn such hidden things then would you not be invaluable in helping the dwarves identify the murderer?" I asked. It seemed likely to me that if the mage could do as he said then surely such spells would be greatly appreciated in the investigation.

"Um well..." Mumford stuttered. "Of course but then to do so I would have to look at the crime scene my good boy and as you can see we are stuck out here for the time being."

The statement had not been lost on Geddar however who called out to us once more. "Young Van Richten that is an excellent idea. I want the three of you and the ever useful Munster the Odorous to follow me."

"That is Mumford the Magnificent."

"Right...sorry."

With a few moments to arrange ourselves we all climbed up into the wagon along with Geddar who directed us on where to go first to drop off the wagon as it would only get in the way. My father agreed, especially once he was informed that by dwarven custom no merchant business would take place for the rest of this day so that the deceased might be honored. My father did not mind as long as we could go to an inn which he gave us permission to do.

"May we go along and watch the mage?" Eldrenn asked my father and Geddar. The thought had not occurred to me but I quickly was nodding my own head in agreement.

"The may as long as they will not be in your way for the investigation Geddar." My father offered.

"Not at all." The dwarf watchman replied. "It was the bright young lad of yours that came up with this idea in the first place it is only right he be there to see its results." He patted me on the back and nearly knocked me off of the wagon in the process.

"Indeed." I heard Mumford mumble beneath his breath.

"I will get them back to the inn once this is all over." Geddar offered to my father who nodded in thanks.

The remaining four of us all followed in the dwarf's steps passing numerous stores until we got to the scene of the crime where not surprisingly a crowd of dwarves, most in watchmen armor, stood staring at a body laying in the street.

This was the first murder I had observed, if one of course discounts last year's encounter with General Athoul but that one had seemed almost magical in nature and while horrible to have observed it was to my mind simply speeding up the aging process. The scene before me was one of strict violence for the murdered dwarf lay with a rather old but still serious iron headed battle axe still protruding from his body. And that was merely the coup de grace stroke, for at least six other wounds marked the dead dwarf on his arms and torso indicating he had put up some sort of fight before being killed.

The victim was also dressed in a blacksmith's leathers which seemed in line with the fact he was laying outside a blacksmith's shop where the forge was still glowing with warms coals. I took a quick glance around and noted by the many shiny and bright steel weapons that this dwarf had not been satisfied applying his skills solely to the pounding out horseshoes, nails, and other common village goods.

I also observed that right near the forge was a full-sized shield shaped wooden plaque darkened by the smoke and ash from the regular fires of the shop but which had an axe like clear spot in the middle of its face that at first glance looked surprisingly similar to the weapon that was sticking up and out of the victim's back. The severed straps on the face of the display shield made it clearly obvious where the murder weapon had originated from.

Our approach had of course been immediately noted by the other dwarves in the crowd who turned to look at one of their own accompanied by an odd looking human in questionably magical robes and two human children. It was the highest ranking dwarf present from the town watch who spoke up for the group's interest in us.

"What have you brought us here Geddar?" The ranking dwarf was obviously aged by his silver gray braided beard but anyone would be a fool to think he was not capable of using either the hammer or sword strapped to his weapons' belt.

"Sir you will remember Rudolph Van Richten and Eldrenn Van Dorn, wards of Otto Van Richten who has just arrived with a wagonload of hops so hopefully our ale shortage issue will be resolved." He said while inadvertently ignoring or completely oblivious to the sweeping bow our mage made since he had been expecting to be the one introduced first but no one seemed to realize this as conversation broke out.

"Thank god for the hops." One soldier proclaimed. "I heard we were down to less than a hundred days of regular ale rations." Others piped up their own support as well adding it their favorite foods to eat while drinking cold frothy ale. I must inform the reader that one hundred days of ale supply in a dwarven community of five thousand or so is more than a year's supply to a city the size of Il' Aluk. But that level, as you see, is cause for concern for a race known to love its drink.

It was a rather persistent cough from the mage that turned the group of dwarves back to the incomplete introductions. Geddar of course immediately understood his error and spoke up without further prompting. "And may I also present Old Fart the Flatulent, murder solver and sewer cleaner extraordinaire." He said as the man bowed once more with a loud sigh.

"He does not look that old." The dwarf officer spoke up.

"Or that flatulent." Said another.

"You should smell my wife then." Piped in a third.

"I'd rather not." Geddar replied.

"That is why you are still single after all these years Ironheart, you are too picky."

"My name is Mumford the Magnificent." The robed mage said with a rather resigned sigh.

"Oh yeah, sorry." Geddar said.

"A fine name it is too." The dwarven leader added.

"But does he at least still cleans sewers?" One spoke again. "My garderrobe is backed up."

"With your wife why I am not surprised?"

"Hey she just likes to eat cheese."

"By the wheel?"

"Sirs can you tell me more about the murder?" I asked bringing the conversation back to the subject at hand before violence broke out over family honor and cheese.

The dwarven leader silenced the rest of the group with a look and then turned to focus on the newcomers. "Indeed young Van Richten." He said pointing to the corpse. "What we have here is the remains of Burgar Steelshoe, master weapon maker for the village of Corvia. As you can see he was killed by an axe. We have no witnesses to the crime but we suspect his ranking apprentice who we have in custody since by the master's will the lad was set to inherit the practice upon his death."

"Bah young Stovar worshipped his master, he'd never taken an axe to old Steelshoe." Another dwarf piped in.

That bought mumbles but I jumped in before the group could be sidetracked again. "Did the weapon maker have any enemies? Did he ever get accused of cheating a customer or a rival?"

That brought some additional mumbled and rapid conversations using names and locations and incidents that I was unfamiliar with until finally the leader silenced the speculation once more. "Every merchant, perhaps with the exception of your father Rudolph, occasionally upsets a customer or two in their lifetime but none to the point of picking up an axe." He explained. "As for a rival, one such incident happened long ago, maybe about the time your father was born in fact, but the party in question could not be responsible either since we buried him not long ago in his family tomb."

"Yes but it WAS his axe." Another dwarf piped up much to the annoyance of the ranking member of the watch.

"Perhaps you should tell us the full story good dwarf if you expect me to lend assistance in solving this case." Surprisingly the words came from Mumford who was standing rubbing his chin in a rather thoughtful, if well practiced, pose of considering everything he saw and heard.

With a resigned sigh the elder dwarf nodded and began his story. "Young Gildabarren was the last of his proud and noble line. A family of dwarves worthy of tipping a glass of ale or two back in memory of if ever there were such a clan." Dwarves tend to be rather single minded in their measurements of praise, ale being the standard ruler used for such. Other dwarves around the circle gave voice to 'ayes' though I can not be sure this was a tribute to the family or the notions of tipping a few back that evoked this response.

"But young Gildabarren was not satisfied with his lot in life, and especially in following the proud dwarven tradition of carrying on his father's business as a good dwarf lad was expected to do." This declaration made me swallow reflexively in discomfort and I noted it had the same effect upon Eldrenn who undoubtedly had similar thoughts to my own. Thankfully none of the dwarves seemed to notice our reaction. More thankfully was the fact that my father was not there to hear this.

"Instead of being a gem cutter, which is itself a noble and ancient profession of honor, young Gildabarren wanted to upset the established order." It was obvious the elder dwarf truly believed in tradition. "He and four other wet behind the beards younglings decided to go into business for themselves and began forging weapons."

"Of course this could not be condoned by the dwarven elders, but neither did we take any action to stop it, assuming that the boys would grow out of it after a period of reflection." There were nods around the circle by the other dwarves assembled.

"Burgar Steelshoe here did not take the challenge to his family's monopoly quite so well and was heard to have threatened young Gildabarren with physical hurt if he even dared to pick up a forge hammer." The old dwarf seemed uncomfortable speaking ill of the dead. "But we all knew it was the drink and pure bellows bluster behind Burgar's words so none of us took it serious enough to worry about."

"Old Nugget Shadowforge is the master of mines here in Corvia and he took a bit more of an active opposition, telling the lads that he would not supply them with any ores to make their weapons, hoping that this would be enough to deter their plans without resulting to violence." The senior militia man and elder dwarf, continued. "His family of course had strong ties to the Steelshoes and was not about to allow this challenge to his friend to go unanswered without some such action."

"On the heels of this a third citizen, Rosco Blackstone the village's primary importer and exporter who deals with your father even today young Van Richten said that he also would refuse to sell any such items these boys produced." The elder dwarf explained. "It was hoped by all of us that the fact the entire process was being denied to them would be reason enough for the boys to give up their fanciful ideas and settle into their traditional roles set forth by their fathers for generations past."

"But your race does not speak of the stubbornness of dwarves without cause boys." The dwarf admitted. "All these issues instead of detracting from the boys' desires only encouraged them to commit to their dreams that much harder. To overcome the issue of ore, the boys dug their own mine and found a richer vein than any Old Nugget had been working for the previous decades he had been Master of the Mines. And as for trade the boys even said over a few too many ales that they would take their goods out into the world themselves if they had to, which would completely cut out Rosco's middleman fees he charged for processing making their weapons even cheaper."

"I can say with some level of honesty that this trade consortium on weapons was actually nervous as the first shipment of ore was brought by wagon load up to at young Gildabarren's new forge and began to be smelted down to make steel. We dwarves, while traditional, do respect determination and it seemed to more than a few of us that the boys would actually accomplish what they set out to do in spite of the barriers that had been placed in their path. Some of the elders talked of finding a reasonable compromise between the two groups to allow both to continue even this idea began to be debated around the village."

"Then the mine accident occurred and everyone's ideas on this were suddenly put aside in order to focus on a desperate rescue attempt." All three of us humans concentrated now even more so one the story. "Of the five lads only young Gildabarren was not in the mine when it collapsed as he was working diligently at his forge."

"Of the four in the mine three of the boys had died in the collapse leaving only Koal Shadowforge; yes the youngest son of Old Nugget himself, still alive by the time the rescue diggers were able to reach him."

"Like all such things after three days to honor and bury the dead a full investigation was launched and no one less than the Master of Mines himself had determined that the cause of the tunnel collapse was due to poor shoring efforts of the mine shaft." The older dwarf watchman continued. "I recall this greatly saddened Old Nugget and he even blamed himself since as the Master of Mines he should have taught his young son Koal better to prevent such things from happening."

"With three dead though the town could not ignore the event and young Gildabarren was tried for foolishly endangering the lives of his friends through this wild scheme of his. We dwarves love and respect our families and since we are few in numbers we would never put one of our own to death unless they were responsible for the blackest of crimes, which all involved in this incident agreed did not fit that title. Instead Gildabarren received the next level of punishment, banishment from clan and home."

"In an elaborate show the town gave the young dwarf one week to pack up whatever goods he chose to take with him and then ordered his ancestral home sealed up and the boy escorted out of town." The old dwarf told us.

"I eventually heard he had settled in Il' Aluk and opened up his own blacksmith shop which was moderately successful from the rumors that eventually made there way here. Of course none of us would talk to him directly you understand, but the dwarves of Darkon are still a close community and we tend to know what the others of our kind are doing so it does not reflect poorly upon the rest of us."

"Word came to us last fall that young Gildabarren had been arrested and executed for selling weapons to a group plotting against the king. Even though he denied knowing what the weapons were intended for, he was killed by King Azalin's secret police ghost as a warning to all others on who they did business with." The statements brought to mind other images to both myself and Eldrenn as we glanced sidelong at each other.

"Young Gildabarren had asked that he be interred in his family tomb as a last request so the body was delivered unto us, and although a few wanted to deny him this honor their voices were shouted down. Eventually a compromise was reached that he would be interred with his family but we would not require suspension of all business for a day in honor of his memory as we do for all other dwarves."

"You said the axe belonged to him?" Eldrenn asked.

"Yes it did." The older dwarf responded. "A few days after his departure old Burgar broke into Gildabarren's family home and took the axe. While we take a dim look on theft in general, he proclaimed that he had only taken the axe in order to display it as his victory over a rival, much the same way our warriors keep the souvenirs of enemies they slay in battle as well. While we were not pleased with this none of us objected to it too loudly either. The old dwarf admitted to his discomfort.

"So you see boys there is no way that this incident could be relate to the murder here before us."

I nodded as well but I had a nagging feeling about the numerous loose ends left unanswered. "What about Koal Shadowforge, could he have perhaps done this in some form of revenge in honor of his friend?"

My question raised eyebrows but more ones of impropriety. Somehow I had asked something insulting. But the old dwarf took a deep breath before answering. "Since you are not of the village you do not know anything about Koal so you could not be expected to understand why the question you asked is not only impossible but insulting. Let us just say that Koal has few worldly pursuits since the accident at the mine and revenge would never be one of them because of it."

Even though he had answered me I was still as confused by his words. I was also smart enough to know that I was not about to chance asking any further such questions. Thankfully Eldrenn came to my defense by turning to Mumford with a question of his own.

""Sir can you not divine the answers to who committed this crime for the dwarves?" He asked.

The idea seemed to rattle Mumford for a second though he covered it up rather quickly. "Of course I could my good lad." He said making the faces of more than a few dwarves brighten. "However such spells take time to study before casting and I am afraid I have not one prepared at the moment and I as I stopped here only to pick up some supplies for the road and be on my way I am afraid I cannot help."

"That is okay Lumpfort." Geddar piped in. "Since we cannot do any business for your supplies until dawn tomorrow I can escort you and the boys back to the inn right now and you will have the whole night to ready your spells and you can cast them while we gather the items you need for your travels that way everyone is satisfied."

"Indeed" The mage said in resignation. "And the name is Mumford." He sighed.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." Geddar replied with another secret wink to Eldrenn and I.

My father took the news of what we had found with an understanding shake of his head. In truth the interruption to business was not a big matter as we had planned to stay at least a single night here in the town anyway so instead of unloading the barrels of hops tonight we would simply need to do so tomorrow morning instead.

Instead we three sat down for a rather scrumptious dinner at the inn. Let no one ever tell you that dwarves are not good cooks. Any race that loves its ale as much as they do must also have similar desires for fine foods and dwarven inns proved this point not just with tasty foods but with significantly larger portions than say elves were used to. In fact with the exception of halflings who always seem to be eating, dwarves are the next race I know of that truly took to feasting with real gusto.

We of course did see Mumford at dinner and offered for him to join us at our table which he kindly accepted. Between courses we were entertained by his stories of his adventures and the power of his spells though my father did seem to have a rather skeptical look in his eyes at some of Mumford's more outrageous claims.

Near dessert Eldrenn asked the mage if he had prepared his spells for the coming day and I think Mumford almost choked on the bite of berry cobbler he was eating. After a few rescue pats on the back by our dwarven innkeeper and host that each nearly sent the mage falling to the floor Mumford finally was able to say between gasps that he had started some of his studies and would be returning to them right after dinner.

Eldrenn's second question about what spell components the mage required was met with a higher level of squirming and discomfort visible as the mage explained that these are secrets of the brotherhood of wizards and not something he was at liberty to discuss with those who are not initiated in their ranks and rules. This seemed to satisfy my twelve year old friend long enough for the mage to start to swallow another piece of cobbler before Eldrenn asked yet another question.

"Is the spell you are casting of the Divinatory School or the Necromantic One?" This caused Mumford to cough once more and spit the piece of berry pie onto the table before him.

The dwarven innkeeper was halfway across the floor to come to the mage's aid once more with his hand raised for a strong blow to dislodge any remaining food when Mumford suddenly stood up and waived him off. "I thank you for an interesting meal my friends." He swallowed and looked longingly at his remaining pie and then at Eldrenn. "I fear it is time for me to return to my studies if we are to have any success on the morrow. Good evening to you and your wards good sir."

We watched him go and once he had gotten out of hearing Eldrenn leaned forward and spoke softly and conspiratorially. "I am not certain what type of mage Mumford is." He said to me and my father. "I could not recognize any of the runes stitched on his robes and I have never heard of one not wanting to tell others of his art."

"Have you heard of many who stiff their companions for the cost of an evening's meal?" My father asked as he paid the dwarven innkeeper for all the meals and drinks served at our table along with a reasonable tip as way of thanks for the outstanding service. Of course the question was rhetorical but it did strike me as odd. One way or another I knew in my heart that tomorrow's demonstration of spell work would be one of the most memorable I was likely ever to see.

We awoke early the next morning and went down to enjoy a warm breakfast of eggs, bacon, and porridge which Mumford declined to share with us at our table taking his meal instead on a tray up to his room. As we were just finishing up Geddar Ironheart appeared at the door once more and made his way to our table to be warmly greeted by my father once more.

"Good morning to you Geddar. Can I perhaps offer you a fine breakfast before we get about selling your town my fine supply of hops?" My father got right to business since he knew dwarves preferred being direct.

The dwarf's eyes went from my father to the remains on the table and then back to my father once more before he finally spoke up in response. "Um about that Otto…" He said obviously embarrassed by something. My first thought, as well as my father's was that something had happened to our goods but that was not it. "You see we are going to have to delay business for another day. There was another murder this morning."

Geddar's embarrassment was not solely based on the fact that another murder had happened here, though of course the stoic dwarves did take issue with this. More of an immediate issue was that the victim in this case was Rosco Blackstone, the very merchant that my father was normally required to deal with. While a new importer for the village would be named immediately, almost assuredly Rosco's own firstborn son, it meant business would be put on hold for yet another day at a minimum. With only one hundred days of supply, to Geddar this meant the chance of running out of ale was becoming that much greater nearly by the minute.

After this recollection set in and my father sighed at the unexpected but still annoying delay we all turned to more respectful and immediate concerns. "I understand my friend. What assistance can we offer to help this town?" First and foremost my father was a man of respect for others.

"Well that is exactly why I am here my friends." Geddar said. "I have been asked by the town leaders to gather up Beauford the Bag of Silly Scents and 'those two smart human boys' and take them to the new scene of the crime. You can of course join us Otto if you desire."

My father's nod was broken off by a sigh from the stairs. "My name is Mumford the Magnificent." The mage finished coming down the stairs with the remains of his breakfast on his tray. His look at Geddar's arrival was one of undisguised resignation such as a prisoner being led off to the gallows might exhibit.

Our group was ready to depart as soon as the mage turned his tray over to the innkeeper and once again we followed Geddar to the scene of another murder. If this evoked the beginnings of a sense of déjà vu in my mind it was nothing compared to actually coming upon the scene where once again a crowd of almost all the same dwarves as yesterday stood in a semi circle around yet another body lying in the street just outside of his own shop. Most disturbing of all to my childhood sensibilities is that it was the exact same old iron axe that was now sticking out of the body of the second victim in the same position as it had been in the first.

Of course it might just be my overactive imagination so I actually had to ask the question. "Geddar that axe is it…"

"It is indeed the very same weapon son." Geddar replied. "What I cannot understand how that is possible since we locked that axe up in an evidence locker last evening and here it is now blocks away and sticking in the back of another victim." He seemed shaken as well. "Events such as this at the best makes the watch look incompetent, at the worst it means one of us is the murderer."

I wanted to deny this by providing Geddar with another option but I had nothing come immediately to mind to answer his concerns. Eldrenn though found a way to change the conversation somewhat as we were greeted by the other members of the watch who had apparently been anxiously waiting for us to arrive.

"Sir didn't you say yesterday that Mister Blackstone was also involved in the Gildabarren situation as well?" I can tell you that his simple comment was met by a round of immediate responses and conversations among the various parties that I could hardly catch because they were constantly speaking over each other.

Finally the elder dwarf called for silence and turned back to us once more before answering. "He was indeed my boy." He started. "Why do you think these crimes are somehow related to those events?"

While I had not been as quick to initially think of it now that Eldrenn had broached the subject the likelihood seemed obvious to me as well. "Well sirs the two victims and the weapon used to commit the crimes all were parties or belonged to parties related to this event. In my mind this additional death makes the chance that this second murder is a simple coincidence very unlikely." I answered and the dwarves began once more to talk softly among themselves and over each other as well. I looked at my father and found him regarding me with a look I had never seen on his face before when he talked to me. It took him patting Eldrenn and I on the shoulders to recognize it was respect for us he was displaying.

"So what do you suggest?" The dwarven elder asked us making me a little uncomfortable to be the center of events but also a bit prideful that here was a pair of twelve year old boys being treated as equal members to the adults of this community. Eldrenn this time gave our answer. "Why not let Mumford the Magnificent cast his spell and see what he can learn."

"My name is Mumford the Magnificent." The mage replied automatically to Eldrenn.

"That is what I said sir."

"Oh. Alright then." The mage stumbled trying to catch up. "What was it then you wanted me to do?"

"To divine what it is you can about these murders sir." Eldrenn prompted in response.

"Right." Mumford agreed. "Please everyone step back up a few paces while I prepare to commune with powers beyond the average mortal's comprehension."

As we stepped back I heard two dwarves whispering. "What is he going to do?"

"I think he is about to clean the sewers."

'Oh thank the gods!" The first replied. "Did I tell you my wife changed over to limburger last night? And if you think it smells bad going in you really need to smell what it's like coming…"

"I will require total silence or my spell will fail." Mumford spoke and then at once when all the conversation had ceased for the moment he pulled a fistful of items from his robe pockets and cast them out into the air and directly above the corpse.

From a distance they seemed vaguely similar to the down feathers that filled our pillows back at the inn. The way they floated slowly downward like these feathers would do rather than quickly falling made me even more suspicious.

"Oshkosh Orangay Pocus." The mage called out waving not only his hands but the full reach of his arms in a most dramatic looking scene. "Forces of magic reveal unto me what you can of these murders." With a sudden wave the mage froze stock still as if the powers he was hearing in his mind held him totally enraptured by their voices. Only after a long time did the mage's knees buckle and he collapsed right before the body.

He turned to look at us with a sense of trembling exhaustion in his limbs and spoke only a few words. "The higher powers of magic say that the answers to these crimes rest with someone here in town." With that he began to sway and would have fallen had not the closest dwarf stepped forward to steady the mage.

Now while the dwarves took to this revelation with excitement I myself was a little more cautious. A city of nearly five thousand inhabitants made the quest for the one who knows more still a needle in a haystack exercise. Since I still could not help but believe that the two victims and the axe were all related to the events from decades ago it was I myself that offered up the next suggestion of how to proceed.

"Excuse me sirs." I found it funny that my mild voice was able to stop all conversation and make the assembled crowd turn and regard me. "Did you not say that the owner of the axe had recently been interred in his family crypt?" I asked. "Is it not possible that perhaps he is the murderer that you seek?" I knew the question would cause a stir, but I also knew there was no part of Darkon that did not have such stories.

"He was dead when we buried him." One dwarf spoke in his own defense it seemed.

"That does not mean he stayed dead." Said another

"The boy does have a point."

"Alright let's go take a look at the tomb and see if it shows any signs of disturbance." The elder dwarf decided.

With a plan now in place as good stoic dwarves required everyone began to move at once to carry it out though it took another word from me to make one minor change. "I also suggest we take along the axe since it plays a key role in all of these happenings."

At my suggestion Geddar pulled the weapon from Rosco's back and asked two others of the watch to take the victim's body to the undertaker for internment.

Eldrenn also voiced up a request of his own. "We need someone to help bring along Mumford the Magnificent." He pointed to the mage who was still swaying on his knees and seemed likely to pass out.

"It's Mumford…oh sorry." The mage mumbled. The two sturdy dwarves each lifted one of the mage's arms over his shoulders and began to carry him along. The problem of course was due to the size difference Mumford's legs from the knees down continued to drag, unnoticed by his assistants mind you, along the cobblestone path. Finally after finding several sharp edged stones the mage was suddenly strong enough to walk unassisted, though he now seemed to be favoring one knee over the other.

Like most towns in Darkon, the graveyard for Corvia was located a distance outside of town so the watch sent one of the youngest and fastest of their number ahead of us to arrange for a pair of wagons to meet us at the south gate and transport us the half mile or so to the walled in cemetery. Unlike the elven tradition of burning their dead, dwarves raise cairns of stone for their deceased to honor their bond with the earth.

But of course leaving whole bodies did tend originally to attract the worst elements, such as ghouls and ghasts that fed on such things as well as the occasional necromancer who needed a supply of corpses to fuel his animation spells. To adapt to this situation the dwarves of Corvia had slightly modified their traditional practices.

Instead of simple cairns of stacked stones over the body of the departed, the village elders used local taxes to build mausoleums for each family in the village. They spared no expense to ensure these crypts were nigh on impossible to breach by digging from below since they started by pouring a thick layer of sand, lime, and gravel, a concoction the dwarves called 'cement,' a foot thick before placing heavy paving stones of interlocked granite to serve as the floors, walls, and ceiling of the structure.

Only a single entrance was allowed for each such building, some of which had been designed to hold fifty or more members of a given family should this become necessary over the decades. That lone doorway was also made of stone and tightly fit to the specific created opening to make it nearly impossible to move on its own. The dwarves sealed the edges of these doorways with a light and crumbly mortar that would show immediate evidence if anyone had tried tampering with such a door.

We arrived at the graveyard and were met by members of the family of dwarves whose job it was to keep these structures properly maintained. While the village had spared no expense in the facilities construction, the dwarves that maintained it only asked in payment what was required to properly clothe, feed, and of course ale a family of dwarves. No one in town ever complained that this incurred cost was too expensive for the peace of mind it provided though the inclusion of ale made their actual salary value more than most other occupations throughout the land.

The head of the family led us to the Gildabarren crypt, one of the smaller due to the limited number of family members when it had been built. While I had been secretly expecting some sign of tampering, thinking that the banished dwarf was seeking to balance the score against his assumed enemies, there was no such evidence.

In fact, since young Gildabarren had died without an heir, the tomb had been taken to the next level after his body had been put to rest and sealed with hot lead instead of mere mortar since no one would or should ever have reason to open this grave again.

My disappointment was shared by all and resulted in the rest of the group, even Mumford looking at Eldrenn and myself as if we were supposed to have all the answers to this continuing mystery. I only shook my head in silence and tried to think of what other possible explanation there was for these events still feeling they had to be part of that earlier incident.

"Ho Ho come to visit Gildabarren have we?" A voice called out as its maker came around the next closest tomb and headed directly for us. "I can tell you he is still not at home."

The dwarf who ambled toward us seemed a bit more undisciplined, or some might even describe his as wild, than the others of his kind I had met. His clothes appeared shabby and weather worn as if he had been wearing them for many days and they were slowly falling apart from misery on his body. His beard, the true image of personal pride for any dwarf, was scraggly and unkempt and had more that a few twigs woven into its knots and snarls testifying to where he often slept.

I had once seen a man who had been caught in a cemetery after dark and had been forced to survive by getting into an occupied coffin belonging to a rather aged, but thankfully fully dead corpse. Whatever he had heard take place throughout the night just outside its wooden walls was enough to drive the poor soul into madness. As the dwarf ambled toward us I thought at first glance he wore a look rather similar to that man. It was only when he got close enough for me to see into his eyes, to see the wisdom burning within them that I knew my assumption was wrong. Whatever issues this dwarf had, true madness was not the root cause or effect of it.

"What bring you here Koal?" The elder dwarf spoke. "I thought you had promised your father that you would stay away from this place?"

"That is true sir." Koal said looking down in embarrassment rather than at the elder. "But because I stopped coming to visit the spirits here they began to seek me out both at home and in my father's mines. I could not take a chance of another cave in sir so I come out here instead."

I suddenly was sure that Koal, which is a fairly common first name for dwarves, was in fact Koal Shadowforge, the very dwarf that had been trapped in the mine in the earlier incident. Once again his appearance here seemed to me to be too odd and unlikely for a simple coincidence. But from the sudden quiet consultation muttering the dwarves of our party were engaged in I did not think from the few words I heard them say that they were making the same leap of logic. Instead they seemed focused on getting this still younger dwarf back safely to his father's home and finding one among themselves willing to take this task on.

"You have spoken to ghosts too!" I looked to see who Koal was talking to and found the dwarf staring right at me. Then he turned to Eldrenn as well. "And so have you!"

These words stopped all conversation in the cemetery and I would not have been surprised to learn that even those dead in the closest tombs were trying to perk their ears up at what was to follow. And the problem was I did not know what was to follow.

It was Geddar and not the dwarven elder who spoke next, coming to stand before both of us boys ad looking us almost in the eyes. "Is this true lads?" He asked calmly. "Have you really had a conversation with the dead?" I noted even Mumford was looking at us with a look of complete wonder on his face which made us even more self conscious.

"Well yes sir we did once." I replied feeling uncomfortable. "Or twice if you count both mother and daughter.

"Three times Rudolph." Eldrenn replied. "You forget what happened last year."

"Oh yeah I guess that does count as holding a conversation with the dead too." I conceded

Geddar turned and looked at the others taking some sort of vote perhaps before turning back to us once more. "Then perhaps we need to tell you one last element of yesterday's story that we sort of skipped over." The dwarf watchman said with resignation.

"Oh goody I love this story!" Koal said clapping his hands in obvious excitement. Geddar did not seem nearly as excited but like a true dwarf he set his shoulders to the task before him and began to tell the parts of the story he had left out.

"We told you yesterday that when the mine collapsed four dwarves had been trapped." Geddar began.

"It did not collapse there was an explosion." Koal said quietly correcting the other dwarf.

"We also told you that after two days we were only able to rescue Koal here whose legs had been trapped under a pile of rubble." Geddar continued seemingly ignoring the words Koal had injected into the story. "But according to Koal the entire time right up until we breached through the last pile of rubble, he had be patiently talking with the other three dwarves who were likewise trapped. He said the group of them complained about being there in the dark, not having any food which seemed a minor annoyance, and not having any ale which of course is almost a crime. All the time they could hear our picks and efforts to reach them through the piles of rock."

"When we finally reached Koal and pulled him from the mine his first concern was for the three friends still trapped further in." Geddar paused here for a moment until Koal himself bid him to finish with a wave of his hand. "We told him that his friends had died in the initial collapse and had not been beside him for the past two days but he would not believe us. Eventually we were even forced to take him to their bodies which had been recovered the first day so he could see the proof for himself."

"Ever since that time Koal has claimed that he can speak with the recently departed and that they even seek him out to chat before they eventually go on to whatever life lies beyond this one." Geddar's words trailed off as this was an uncomfortable subject for sturdy and dependable dwarves who saw this as neither.

"I so love having someone else tell that story because then it almost makes it sound completely believable to the audience don't you agree?" Koal asked Eldrenn and I who could only nod our heads since we did not know what else we should do.

Geddar though kept his attention focused on the pair of us. "Is it true then, can one of the living actually speak to the dead?"

"There are spells some mages employ that can speak with the dead." It was Mumford who spoke up for us though his eyes seemed far distant and considering as he spoke. "I have heard of beings able to manifest such powers as well but never before have I ever encountered one."

"So then Koal is not mad?" The dwarf elder asked.

"I would guess no more so than any of the rest of us good dwarf." The mage replied to which Koal began happily clapping once more until suddenly he stopped and cocked an ear as if listening to something.

I paused as well as did almost everyone around the tomb but no noises other than the great bellows of our breathing became immediately apparent to my senses. Koal though seemed sure of whatever he was hearing and began to stumble, jog, and then eventually run around the various tombs back toward the entrance of the cemetery itself.

I did not know what to think of it but found myself keeping pace with him as was Eldrenn. From the sounds behind us, since I refused to turn my head and take a chance of losing Koal among the large stone structures, most if not all of our party was doing the very same thing.

I expected that Koal was running back to the village or perhaps the mines since he had said this is where he spent most of his time but instead the odd dwarf ran out of sight as he passed around our pair of wagons. "Ah so THAT is where you have been hiding." I heard him laugh and clap his hands once more in excitement.

I raced out the cemetery gate and found Koal looking into space above the wagons as if talking to someone which indeed was exactly what he was doing. "I will agree to your plan only if you promise to get a hold of that temper of yours and no one else gets hurt." Whatever answer Koal got from his either ghostly or imaginary friend seemed to please him for he began happily clapping eagerly once more.

By the time the others had caught up to us, Koal seemed more himself, or rather more a normal dwarf than I had ever seen to this point. He turned to the elder dwarf watchman first. "Sir may I ask you to take me to my father's house on your way back to the barracks?" Koal's respectful request seemed to catch the dwarves just as much off guard as his look had me. The elder merely nodded and we boarded the wagons and set off once again toward the village and Koal's home.

We rode back in silence which seemed a surprise to me since in truth we had not yet solved anything regarding the murders that had brought us to the graveyard in the first place. When I began to breach the subject Geddar quieted me with a look making me realize that they did not want to talk about such things in front of Koal. Koal himself seemed to knowingly smile at this deception as well but seemingly played right along for his own reasons. He knew the dwarves did not want to upset him and he did not want to ruin this honor they were bestowing upon him.

The ride to Koal's house took nearly a half hour, which still left us at least a similar period before the midday bell would be rung. Koal was pleased by this saying that his father would certainly be home at the moment and having his lunch most likely. As he climbed out of the cart he asked the dwarven elder along with Geddar to accompany him in to speak with his father. He surprised me with two more requests. The first was that all four of we humans who were part of the investigation join them as well, to which we agreed so as to not offend so important a village family at the very least.

The second request was nearly made as an afterthought as we had already opened the door to the house and began filing in. He turned for a second and looked at Geddar who was bringing up the rear and asked. "Can you bring that old iron axe along as well?" Geddar looked confused by the request but at a motion that I read as 'just humor him' from the watch elder the younger dwarf returned to the wagon and came back carrying the weapon on his shoulder.

Koal on the other hand headed straight into the house, bypassing rooms to his left and right and heading straight for the dining room with the rest of us in hurried pursuit. I watched him entered though the arched but doorless portal and call out. "Ah father here is where you are at."

"Koal where have you been I have been worried about you my son." An imposing but aged dwarf's voice spoke back. Even before seeing him I knew this was a dwarf who demanded respect from those around him. As the dwarven elder and then I stepped into the room I knew immediately that my assumption of Koal's father had been dead on by the look of annoyance that greeted each person who entered behind his son.

"I have been talking to some old friends of mine father." Koal's words seemed light and innocent but his father knew immediately his child was referring to the ghosts he claimed to speak to. "I learned a secret of yours and I think it is time you admitted to it."

His father's face went through confusion to concern and then to anger in mere seconds. I doubt not that most powerful men and women have events in their lives that they regret or at least do not want others to know about and being told to expose such issues by you own blood is likely not something that many parents would accept.

By this point the other three humans of our group had also entered momentarily distracting Koal's father with their arrival before he turned back to his son once more. "I do not know what it is you are referring to Koal." He said with obvious strain in his voice.

At this point Geddar stepped into the room as well and while the father's quick glance was still annoyed it was obvious he was happy to see this was the last of the uninvited guests he was going to have interrupt his lunch. That was until the axe broke free from Geddar's hand of its own accord and literally began to float menacing toward Koal's father.

"Are you sure of this father?" Koal asked. "That is the Gildabarren family axe and it seems to think differently."

The axe suddenly swung and caved two of the legs of the great table out from under its face causing the wooden structure to change from an eating location to a ramp and sending the elaborate meal spread out upon it to crash in a clatter of shattering glass, clay shards, and piles of food onto the carpet at the bottom end. The axe however continued to float up the table as if carried by someone walking calmly up the ramp.

"What insanity is this Koal?" His father asked with his eyes darting and looking for an avenue of escape. Each path that look promising though caused he axe to move slightly in that direction as if to suggest it was going to intercede and prevent such a rash escape from occurring.

"That is a bad choice of words father since it was your actions that made your own son insane." Koal spoke calmly watching both the axe and his father at the same time.

Koal's father darted to the side of the table only to see the axe come down before him and change one of the chairs into so much kindling right before his eyes. The old dwarf skidded to a stop and backed up once more to his minimal shelter at the top of the table. "What do you want of me Koal?"

"Nothing father." Koal replied. "This is between you and the Gildabarren clan. I made my peace with your actions long ago. But I do not think the wielder of that axe shares my forgiving spirit. I suggest you speak the truth about the mine collapse before you end up dead with an axe in you like Burgar and Rosco did, this very axe as a matter of fact." He replied pointing to the menacing weapon.

At this point you should know that we four humans were pressed up against the wall of the dining room watching events unfold but staying well away from the sweep of the axe. Geddar and his superior wanted to offer assistance, but Koal motioned them to stay back and an occasional menacing sweep in their direction as well kept both dwarves on the sidelines until they could devise an appropriate plan.

"The mine collapse was your friend's fault for not…" Old Nugget Shadowforge's words were cut off as the axe blade buried itself in the table face and for a moment seemed to have gotten stuck. That was until the old polished wood split along its center line and the table dropped away to each side in two pieces.

"He does not believe you father." Koal replied. "And I heard the explosion so I do not believe you either."

The heavy double bladed axe closed within striking distance when the elder Shadowforge finally fell to his knees. "Okay it is true we did explode the mine but we did not know anyone was inside at the time." His words were pleading. "Koal you have to know I would never have done so if I knew my own son was inside! We just wanted to stop you and your friends from challenging the established order."

"I know that father which is why I have forgiven you." Koal replied softly. "But my forgiveness is not the one you need to seek if you have any hopes of surviving the next few minutes."

At that moment I could feel the Vistani charm Marta had given me warm upon my chest and I could just barely make out the spectral image of a dwarf holding the axe and getting ready for what would undoubtedly be a killing blow if it fell. I heard screaming and realized it was me. "Ask him for his forgiveness right now or he is going to kill you sir!"

My words shocked not only the living elder Shadowforge but also his spectral attacker as well, who turned to regard me and Eldrenn with knowing eyes.

The delay was enough though for the old Shadowforge to finally speak up. "I am sorry boy for the pain I caused you and your family and the dishonor I brought to your clan." The old dwarf spoke and bowed his head waiting for the axe to fall.

And fall it did. From the very hands of the spectral ghost to land on the floor before the knees of its almost next victim. The ghost looked at Eldrenn and me and nodded his head in respect before turning once more to his former friend Koal and sharing words I could not hear.

Koal nodded after a moment and then spoke. "Go to your rest now my friend knowing the honor of you and your family has been restored." The spirit faded away leaving the eight living members in the room silent for long moments thereafter.

Mumford the Magnificent was the first to leave town the next morning. He carried in his pack the supplies he had been seeking when entering the town and also had a new title to add to his impressive list of such things. "Investigator extraordinaire."

Geddar told me he had been the one on watch at the gate when the mage passed through and stopped him only long enough to shake hands and thank him. He also wished the mage fair travels in the following means if the dwarf is to be believed.

"Goodbye Mumford the Magnificent, may your path one day bring you back to our doors.

"The name is Clubbar the Irrelevant…I mean Sluggard the Sufficient… oh you know what I mean." The mage called Mumford said turning in a huff and walking off toward the next town that required the services of such a powerful mage and detective.

Two hours later it was our turn to depart as well and we too stopped to bid Geddar a fond farewell. He told us that the hops were a god's gift to the parched and nearly dehydrated town and that my father should have taken the extra money the dwarves had offered him because of his personal delays here in the town likely cost him business. My father of course would not hear of such a thing which of course was just one example of how my father had made and kept so many good friends on his travels.

Geddar also informed us that Old Nugget Shadowforge had retired and turned his entire business over to his son, Koal's older brother, to continue to operate. The town council was unsure what course to pursue legally, but supposedly a letter from the Shadowforge patron of his promise to not leave his home, to in fact exile himself within its walls, seemed to satisfy the need for justice some had called for.

Koal had declared his intention to depart the village as well saying that his 'gift' seemed to suggest he would be required in other places at future times. He decided it seems that his ability to speak with spirits was a means to help the troubled ones among us find their peaceful and deserved rest. I thought that was an honorable way to use the odd gift he had been granted with. He did promise to send word to his friends in Corvia of his adventures when he got the time. Geddar promised to forward the best stories to me and Eldrenn for our own enjoyment as well.

Finally Geddar said the town elders had voted Eldrenn and me a new surname, Peacemaker, since most human ones said nothing about the character of the person who wore it as dwarves believe they should. My father thanked them for this honor but explained in human cultures such things were frowned upon since they tended to become exaggerated over time like a certain mage we were all familiar with.

This declaration made Geddar seem a bit nervous and when asked why he seemed at a loss for words. Finally after a bit of coaxing he admitted that the story of Gildabarren's axe had already spread in a single day beyond the walls of the city of Corvia and it was likely that it would precede us to every village on the rest of our journey.

I am not certain whether this made my father happy or not for he said very little beyond a casual comment of this is a river we will cross when we come to it. Personally the idea of such a story did not worry me because they would be received like bard's tales with a strong dose of skepticism. Would anyone believe the influence of two twelve year old boys?

And that leaves only the axe of Gildabarren which I asked after just before we departed. Geddar reported that while it was a lot of work the city council had decided the proper course was to break the lead seal on the Gildabarren family tomb and put the relic inside to rest with the family whose honor it had protected. Since only three of us had seen the ghost holding it I thought it was wise to not correct him on this minor misconception. Geddar also explained that once it was sealed back up it was hoped that this particular weapon would never be seen or heard from again except of course in bard's tales.

As we rode away from Corvia my father turned to me and said. "Rudolph I have been thinking and I think I have come to agree that you should indeed become a doctor." The shock of this reversal seemed to push the events of the Ghost Axe of Gildabarren from my mind for many miles and days to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Summer of Year 684 _**

**_Leidenheim, Lamordia _**

**_Chapter 5_**

Once again the rest of my year passed with relatively few additional excitements beyond those of any preteen boy who became a teen. Eldrenn and I continued to excel at our studies which made both sets of our parents extremely satisfied with us. In fact I heard on one occasion when his family came over for dinner that they so enjoyed the seeing the maturity Eldrenn now daily displayed and they thanked my father for allowing him to accompany us on our summer journeys over the previous years.

Oddly enough Eldrenn's mother was expecting yet another baby in the coming spring and I heard my mother state later to my father that because of this near tradition perhaps it would be best if Eldrenn not accompany my father and me in the coming year. This notion scared me at first until both my parents began to laugh and made their way to their own room at the other end of the house to discuss this issue in more detail. I only know that because of this I had to make my own breakfast the next morning because they both decided to sleep in.

For the completeness of this record the story of The Ghost Axe of Gildabarren did in fact come to my village over the winter months rather than getting here ahead of us as Geddar had predicted it would. By this point the story had changed somewhat from the events that I described previously. It had also been turned into a play by a troop of travelling performers. It took my father more than a little convincing, the final effort being made by my mother resulting in another breakfast alone for me, to convince him to buy the tickets for the performance. I must say that while the play was exciting and well worth the single silver piece per person it cost, the performance had little chance of anyone associating myself or Eldrenn with these events. The key differences that I saw I shall provide here.

First of all the dwarf Gildabarren who was the anti-hero of the play made a rather dramatic curse upon the village of his birth for casting him out into the cold of night to survive all alone. The flaw here being it was summer, morning, and he departed with few if any words not withstanding the rest of the scene matched what had really happened.

Secondly the ghost axe cost the lives of at least a score of victims during the show, including more than a few members of the city watch who tried to protect the actual victims of the attack.

There was no mention of Koal Shadowforge's role at all, which knowing the dwarf myself, I think this was best for all involved.

Finally the true hero of the story was Mumford the Magnificent, wizard and detective extraordinaire who stepped through a series of devious clues and more than one deadly attempt upon his life by the haunted axe before finally putting it to rest and saving two young human boys whose reason for being in the scene at all was never explored or explained.

Yes, all in all, the Ghost Axe of Gildabarren I record as one of those events better to see the play than read the account unless you are looking for truth.

Besides the arrival of the play the big news that reached the village of Rivalis that winter was the discovery of the land of Lamordia that lay along our border to the west. Those unfamiliar with the Lands of the Mists may not understand how such a thing is possible and in truth I am not in any way an expert on such events.

What I can say is for the years before this land appeared the western border of Darkon, along with many other borders in many lands, ended abruptly in a veil of gray and impenetrable mists from which our lands got their name. This odd fog never dissipated even beneath the rays of the hottest sun on the warmest days of the year. What lay within or beyond this mist is purely speculative.

Those villages that were located the nearest to such borders of course had their own ideas of these answers. Rivalis, like I said, was not that far from this western border so we had developed a fairly scientific understanding of what likely lay out there. Since sounds and smells carried through the mists we knew land almost assuredly lay to our west because the mist had no hint of lapping waves or the smell of the sea carried in the air.

Also it was not uncommon for strangers to emerge from these same mists into our land, often confused with where they were now and how they had gotten here as well. For a period of time our villagers had recorded names of lands such a Sembia, Amn, Cormyr, The Bandit Kingdoms, and great cities of Greyhawk and Waterdeep that supposedly through recently emerged stories of strangers lay just beyond this misty border. But eventually we locals realized that there were far too many such places named by these strangers for the border to be large enough to accommodate them all or even a mere fraction of their number.

It was also said that the Vistani were able to navigate these mists to the lands that existed beyond them. Of course first hand confirmation of such things which would require the residents of Darkon to talk to these gypsies was severely, one might say lethally, frowned upon. But again being in a border town one could hardly help but recognize their distinctively painted wagons coming through or going around our village.

I had heard of one of our villagers who had paid the Vistani to take him on a trip through the mists and when this traveler returned, looking far older than his years I might add, he spoke of places beyond that shadowy veil that seemed incredible to me when I heard of them. The most memorable of his stories was an endless desert of sands and brutal heat where primitive human peoples lived almost free of any metal implements but who had build great monuments of stone in the shape of pyramids that dwarfed in size even the impressive height of Castle Avernus.

So needles to say the fact that after generations the mists along our western border had finally drawn back revealing a new land was quite a cause for excitement during the four winter months when we had few other things to speak about. And in the Van Richten home the question for my father and I became one of what if anything this new opportunity meant for the family business?

Over the winter months the first contacts between our neighboring lands' peoples began, mostly in the form of hunters crossing the border following animals and coming upon their counterparts in the process. While I do not think all such events went smoothly I have never heard otherwise from the hunters that came back and reported such events in our town.

It was my own arguments that trade would be a good means by which to learn more of these people that convinced my father to take the risk and see what opportunities for business existed in Lamordia. His one caveat was that we would travel north to the Darkon city of Martina Bay before turning west and following the coast into this new land. Partly this was because we assumed that the coast provided the best opportunity for finding settlements and partly to ensure if we had to flee back over the border we were not leading hostile agents back toward our own home.

My father put the decision in my hands what type of goods I thought would be the best to bring and based on the stories I had heard form those hunters who had met their counterparts I decided foodstuffs, preferably ones that were preserved or took a long time to spoil to be the best choice for few if anyone found a wagon full of food to be a danger to their way of life. My father listened to my arguments and nodded his approval suggesting then that we stock up on two dozen or so smoked hams along with various cheeses, vegetables, and packs of flour. All in all nothing terribly expensive would be taken along on our trip if by chance we were forced to surrender all our merchandise and flee empty handed back to our own lands. But still the goods needed to be valuable enough to turn a profit and potentially make good contacts if this opportunity presented a chance to do so as well. All in all I looked forward to exploring this new land and I know Eldrenn did as well for we spoke of such things often wondering what wonder we would find.

The three of us arrived in Martina Bay at the beginning days of summer and learned from hunters that only in the past two weeks or so had winter finally given up its hold of Lamordia. The land was now rushing into a rather abbreviated spring but thankfully it was drying out enough to allow for our wagon's passage as long as we stayed a mile or more inland from the sea and avoided the frozen bogs that grew up nearer to the coast. One hunter from Darkon even said his own travels over the border had brought him to a small village of a few hundred people in Lamordia called Leidenheim that was perhaps at most of a single day's travel along the coast from where we stood now. For the cost of a meal and a few mugs of ale this seasoned woodsman even drew us a map of its location and gave us all the details he could remember of dangers or obstacles along our chosen path.

The next morning we set forth following these provided directions and I was happy to note each milestone the hunter had described appeared exactly when and where it was supposed to. By the time we reached the village he had spoken of I also noted that we had picked up a few shadows moving along with us deeper in the woods. At first I feared undead, such as ghouls or some other creature capable of walking in the sunlight, but when we stopped for a meal, a small number of these shadows broke away from their group and came forward to reveal themselves as Lamordian hunters.

By sharing part of our meals with them, which they appreciated immensely, we had the opportunity to explain our intentions and show these men and women that we were in fact on a peaceful mission of trade. Accordingly it was no surprise to me that when the village of Leidenheim finally came into sight a crowd had gathered at the fringes and was there to greet us warmly and with open arms.

Most interesting to me is that while the people of Darkon come in many sizes, shapes, and numerous hair and eyes colors the people of Lamordia are far more homogeneous of a single race. Most are tall and fair skinned, with hair tones of light brown all the way to a very sun lightened blonde that is exceedingly rare in the lands around my home.

Being a newly converted teenager I also noted to my embarrassment that the girls in this land were exceedingly handsome with their long golden hair that was often woven into twin braids on the sides of their faces. It took only a single glare from a boy likely my own age but nearly a full foot taller to explain to Eldrenn and I our staring was not appreciated, at least by the fathers and brothers of the girls in the audience. We both agreed after a moment of quiet consultation to avoid looking in any one location for more than two seconds if we could avoid it.

The Lamordians had their own language but thankfully due to early contacts over the winter some in this village were already speaking a passable version of my native Darkonese. This was a relief and an embarrassment to all of us in that none of our merchant delegation understood a single word of their language.

The trade portion of our mission took longer than it would normally in any Darkon city, hampered in part by the translation issue, but even more so by the need to establish fair rates of trade between our two peoples. For example with the bags of wheat flour and smaller ones of yeast we carried my father created some samples of a softer bread than the one the villagers made from the other more common grains their land produced like rye. These samples were snapped up quickly by eager villagers and the bags of flour sold immediately thereafter once an appropriate price could be agreed upon.

Thankfully the Lamordians used coins of similar base metals and approximately the same size so this was not too difficult for strictly cash transactions. True to my father's honor in business practices he did not overcharge these new customers for items they would obviously willingly pay much more for which resulted in him being laughed at by some of the locals but respected by many many more.

Other food stuffs we carried sold along similar lines and I quickly realized we would be spending at least one more day after today as my father allowed villagers to sample of all the new foods before even beginning to talk of a selling price. My father did pat me on the back since transporting foodstuff had been my own idea so I really had no one to blame when I became bored with watching the slow and steady progress of emptying our wagon. I had little doubt that the process to fill it with local goods would be just as tedious to observe for two teenage boys.

Eldrenn and I soon went off on our own investigations and we were soon joined by some locals of approximately our own age who politely invited us to join them in their local forms of play. Of course we were at a bit of a disadvantage for much of the games of youth for boys in this land related to wrestling and feats of strength displays. While Eldrenn and I were of average height in our own land, the Lamordians dwarfed us in height and mass making the winner of the contests predetermined before they even began.

Lamordian females of our age took two very distinct courses in such games. Most sat patiently on the sidelines cheering on the participants. And much to my surprise Eldrenn and I soon had our own cheering section both during and after every event. I even received a consolation kiss upon the cheek from one lass when my throwing axe did not make it all the way to the target. This made a thirteen year old boy wonder what the prize was had I actually won an event. However my dreaming about such things went, that was certainly not going to happen.

A small group of more dominant females also participated in some of these events and many of them were not only the size of the males, but even more competitive. Eldrenn ended up in a wrestling match with one such girl. The rules being simply that the two rolled around seeking to pin the other beneath their weight until the loser admitted defeat. A blushing Eldrenn finally did so but from my observations this had more to do with being unable to get a good hold on the girl for fear of touching areas that were significantly different than on a man. In the end his opponent let him up, but only after giving him a kiss on the lips that made the one I receive pale in comparison. His blushing was yet another victory of sorts to her.

Eldrenn and I as well showed some of the games children in our land played such as skipping rope. This was laughed at in mockery by the boys, who to a one were unable to perform this feat with any skill, and they eventually wandered off to seek other pursuits with their regular cheering sections of females in tow. This left my friend and I with five girls who were either uncommitted or had a greater interest in these new skill than whatever games or activities the others had gone in pursuit of. After a short time these girls were already exceeding our own skill with the rope and laughing quite openly in enjoyment. We both received kisses in thanks for showing them this game when parents began calling the children home for supper.

Eldrenn and I returned to the common house, the Lamordian equivalent to an inn. This building was always the first structure built in a village and it literally housed all the new settlers until such time as private residences could be built. Even once all the settlers moved into their own homes, the common house remained to serve the functions as a town meeting hall, a storage warehouse, and visitor's quarters as it would for us this evening. Privacy was established by sectioning areas within off with rope lines covered in animal furs to simulate walls. While different from what we were used to, this still was more than acceptable for our needs.

For our meal we were asked to join one of the more prosperous local families who had made a rather large kettle of stew that I figured there was no way their family and three guests could possibly finish. Much to his shock this family happened to contain Eldrenn's wrestling partner who gave him sly looks throughout the meal that caused my friend no end of embarrassment and had the adults smiling knowingly as he turned red.

Her father, probably the least amused but still good humored by Eldrenn's obvious embarrassment, spoke our language generally the best of all the villagers we had met. This was partly why the offer to dine had come from him. While we polished off the entire stew, a local mixture of vegetables and reindeer meat, and the accompanying two loaves of dark earthy bread, we talked about the differences of our two lands and the wonders of each.

The family mother seemed distressed that Eldrenn and I could only finish two heaping bowls of stew each, wondering through her husband's translation if that was perhaps why we grew so much smaller than their children. The fact that Inga, Eldrenn's opponent, finished off three with almost no effort on her part made me suspect there just might be something to this argument. How could we be expected to lug back the carcass of a three hundred pound reindeer if we did not put some more meat on our bones?

My father was the one who came to rescue our honor in this matter first by explaining the need to hunt for food in our homeland was not nearly as necessary as it was here in Lamordia and then by following it up saying his boys were quite accomplished hunters of their own. This made Eldrenn and I confused for our demonstrated skills in these areas that were considered games to the locals was far from stellar.

But my father said his two boys, not trying to explain Eldrenn as the son of a friend but rather a sibling since it is how we acted, were accomplished hunters of ghosts, having put three such spirits to rest in our short life spans. Ghost was a term not easily translated by us. For a while I wondered if perhaps the undead were unknown in this land. That idea shocked me for they were a constant menace that one just accepted in our land. It would be like trying to explain the ocean or mountains to lands that had no such things.

After a bit though it was Eldrenn's admirer who suddenly pierced the translation barrier and offered up the local equivalent to what we were speaking of. Her father made a polite inquiry using words like 'dead but not dead' and 'like mist' to which we nodded for the two terms were a fairly good definition of a ghost in our books. When we agreed this set off a furious round of Lamordian discussion about something until finally the family grew silent and the father turned to us once more.

"This is honest about your sons?" He asked my father with a rather serious tone. I guess that a man's honesty is judged just as seriously here in Lamordia as my father did in Darkon.

My father merely nodded in response uncertain of what to say since this was obviously an issue of some importance to Inga's parents. This nod was seen as proof enough for him to bark a quick word to his eight year old son who immediately got up and headed out into the night, something that shocked those of us from Darkon. My father asked politely if the darkness held no additional dangers for so young a boy.

"Wolves and the like will not enter a human settlement." Her father replied slightly confused. "Is this not the same in your lands as well?"

"No it is not." My father explained. "Only the very bravest or most foolish go outside once the sun has set or they are likely to never return."

The local father pondered this announcement with a knowing shake of his head, likely wondering what types of dangers could so threaten an entire community much less and entire nation into their homes on a nightly basis. Based on the new friends I had made I hoped they would never have to find out for themselves.

Minutes later the boy returned with two other fathers of roughly equivalent age in tow who our host greeted and ordered his wife and daughter to give up their seats so men might discuss matters. They did so without question making surprising me by knowing how poorly such requests, much less orders, would go over in my own house.

Our host explained to the new comers what he had learned about us and this seemed to cause an equal level of excitement, at least until the men got a closer look at Eldrenn and me, before he turned and spoke to us once more. "What would you have us pay to make such a ghost leave?"

The request of course was a shock for it was hardly a skill either Eldrenn or I had any true practice in but rather one that circumstances had forced upon it. In fact it was much like learning to swim when one's boat is overturned; the alternative just is not suitably appealing so you do what you must to keep your head above water.

My father tried to explain that we did not perform such actions as an occupation but rather as a service hoping this would turn them away from the idea they seemed to be leading us toward. Of course translation issues being what they were it seemed to the villagers that we were offering our services free of charge which shocked them but to which they immediately rejected for they were too honorable to take such a gift from men who had been strangers only a day before.

Instead of getting into further confusion about money I spoke up, being male and having a seat at the table the Lamordians expected and encouraged such behavior, and asked to please explain what the problem with the ghost was before we wasted any additional time talking about price. The father accepted this idea and told his companions before they settled down to explain their situation. For the reader's sake I will take the liberty of translating the story the way they told it into a more understandable version. Understand that for the three of us to get to this point took a few more rounds of discussion than I will provide here in this record.

"Our honored guests." The father, whose given name was Olaf, bowed to us and began to tell his story. "Our village is a young one and most of those adults of my age you see here were the original settlers who lived in the common house when it was first built. Over time we raised new houses for each family and became the town you see before you today."

"We chose this site because it is very close to the reindeer herds as they migrate in the fall to other portions of this land and because a great fresh water lake lay only a short distance away as well. Nearby forests could supply the logs for our houses and the wood for our fires and those lands we cleared would be used to plant gardens for the quick summer months." All of these seemed logical to me but I recognized they were merely background for the story that was to come.

"The lake of which I speak is teeming with fish that are light and flakey to the taste and almost leap upon your hook when it I cast into the water." Olaf described. "I assume in your village it is like our own where the people each have their own responsibilities and trade the results of their work to one another?" This caused a little confusion in our minds by the terms being used so Olaf elaborated for clarity. "Does the one who cuts down trees trades his logs to the one who grows plants, hunts, or fishes for their goods?"

My father nodded saying we had occupations and trade in our village that were very similar. This made Olaf happy so he continued his story. "When first we came to this land our eldest was Sven Greybeard who led us to this place and showed us its bounty. Sven was old and had no woman or children alive anymore so he adopted us and we of the village adopted him."

"With his age Sven could not do many jobs like the younger men could so he spent his days fishing and bringing much fresh food to the tables, especially in the early days when the men were building houses." He drew a breath and continued. "In those days Sven knew we all relied upon him, but as time went buy and the houses were built, more and more of us turned to other jobs such as hunting, farming, and other such things making the fish he provided less important to our survival. While we still honored the old man, he withdrew to his own home near the lake and we saw him less an less frequently."

"As younger men came of age they too took up life work and a few went to the lake to fish as well since the lake belonged to no one, or everyone of the village at least." He explained. "Some days they would see old Sven casting his lines as well but none of the boys was quick to speak to the old man for long. This is the same in your lands where the young would rather speak with those their own age than learn from their elders?"

I had to choke back a smile for not only had the question come at an appropriate time in the conversation, it was asked directly at Eldrenn who had been making eyes at Olaf's daughter at that very moment. The other men at the table noticed this as well and began to laugh outrageously and boisterously that even Olaf and my father had to join in. Eldrenn was the only one at the table that did not find the humor of this question or my fathers nod that such preference were the same in our own land as well.

"Old Sven died just a month ago." Olaf said bowing his head in respect. "It was not disease or an accident that did him in but rather just a passing of his time had come and the old man never awoke from his dreams."

"We burned his body and spread his ashes as is our tradition for the dead." He paused looking at us to see how we would react to such statements and perhaps what our own practices in such areas were.

My father nodded solemnly and replied this was similar to what some communities in Darkon did as well. That bond of cultures seemed to satisfy the men and Olaf continued his story.

"But the very next day after his funeral two of the young men fishing came running back to the village to say they had seen Old Sven casting his lines into the lake as usual." The young men had been in complete shock at seeing this apparition and disturbed by the way he called to them from across the lake in conversation making the fishing for them even harder than usual. It was worse still when Sven's ghost started to walk toward them to speak with the pair as if nothing odd were occurring."

"As the ghost came closer the boys picked up rocks and threw them at the old man which caused him to flee as if these items could somehow still hurt him even though a few passed through his body without any effect that the men could see." Olaf explained. "They gathered up their gear quickly along with their meager day's catch and came running back to tell us what they had seen and heard."

"At first we of the village looked on this story with skepticism since we all know that fishing and drinking are activities that go quite well together." Olaf laughed and used the reference as a reason to pour all the men at the table, which included Eldrenn and me, a mug of chilled ale. My father sipped at his politely and since we knew he was not going to argue against a village tradition in this new land Eldrenn and I each took a big gulp of the drink receiving nods of approval from the Lamordian men and a disturbingly secret smile of satisfaction from my father. I cannot say the taste was as wonderful as we had always been led to believe. It was not until minutes later when the potent brew began to make me feel warm and sweaty that I understood the peril of drinking so fast. Of course I had already taken three other large gulps by this point nearly finishing my mug and knew I was in trouble.

"It was the fact that the fish the boys had drawn from the lake had begun to rot right before our eyes that made us understand there was something to the stories the fishermen were telling us." Olaf continued. "I know not about your land but fish take days to reach the level of smell that these reached during our short conversation.

A few of us returned with the young men to the lake but we say no sign of the ghost they had spoken of. We did pull a few more fish from the lake to replace the rotted ones but once again even before we got them back to the village edge they had begun to smell horribly and we were forced to throw them into the bushes."

"Since that time others have seen the ghost as well and still to this day any fish drawn from the lake continues to rot before it can be eaten." Olaf finished his story and his ale immediately there after. He and the other two Lamordians went for a second mug. My father politely declined the offer showing his own was still half full and while he did not protest our hosts refilled our own mugs as well and told us to drink up.

By this point I was starting to feel the oddest spinning sensation in my head but this did not stop me or my friend from imitating our hosts and draining our mugs in a single raising. Once again I expected my father to say something to prevent our actions but instead he just sat at the table politely chatting with our host and looking at the pair of us boys with an all too knowing smile on the corner of his lips.

"Has the ghost ever physically hurt anyone?" My father asked. I was struck by how intelligent that question was just like I was struck with wondering why I had not thought of it myself.

"No old Sven was the gentlest of souls in life and even in death it seems." Olaf replied. My dad nodded at this and turned to the pair of us for our decision on this issue. This time it was Eldrenn who spoke up for the pair of us, looking to Inga before answering was not unobserved. "Thirs…" He seemed to be having a bit of trouble slurring his words. "My friend and I would be honest…horny…honored to provide you with our thervices." Thankfully my father handled the nuances of translation so we did not insult our hosts.

The Lamordian men clapped us on the backs, I realized they likely would get along well with the Corvian dwarves were the two groups to meet, before filling our mugs one more time so that we might toast to our success in the morning. All three of us from Darkon finished our mugs, the difference being this was Eldrenn's and my third while only the end of my father's first. Knowingly and with a few undisguised winks from the other men at the table my father said it was time to get his ghost hunters back to their beds if they were going to be of any service on the morrow.

The other two Lamordians offered to help, carrying the pair of us, for some reason we were having the most difficult time walking, back to the common house and depositing us on our beds. Thankfully the one who had carried Eldrenn did not take offense when he said 'goodnight Inga' and kissed him on the cheek before falling into his bed. The men only laughed at this and went back to their own homes while we fell into the most peaceful slumber I could recall in all my years.

Morning and sunlight came with a vengeance to a pair of boys suffering under their first ever hangover. My father's budding smile last night was now in full bloom and while we begged him to let us stay in bed he reminded us that we had promised our hosts to look into the ghost problems that we could barely even recall at the moment. When that did not inspire us to action he did mention casually that fishing at the lake was likely a much more peaceful and quiet activity than any we were likely to find here in the common house that served as a goods warehouse as well. Almost on cue we head someone drop a crate which made both Eldrenn and I cringe at the sound. We agreed and with painful slowness got cleaned up since we were still dressed from last night, and headed out toward the village lake.

We were met on our journey through town by many friendly calls from the Lamordian men who immediately recognized our plight and took good hearted advantage of it and then surprisingly by Inga who explained slowly that she had convinced her father to let her accompany us since we did not speak the same language as Sven. She also had borrowed some fishing poles and bait for the three of us since that was the supposed reason we were heading to the lake anyway. Her joining our outing seemed to pep Eldrenn up, but I can tell you their incessant chattering did nothing for me.

The lake was every bit as peaceful as I had hoped and because the pair could not stop talking I suggested we separate but stay in sight of one another to increase our chances of spotting the ghost. In truth I planned to toss my hook, without bait, into the water and lie back on the grassy shore and get some more sleep as this seemed a priority for my body.

I had just begun to drift into a comfortable nap when I heard my name being called from far away and my shoulder being nudged gently but insistently. I tried to roll over and tell Eldrenn to leave me alone but now more awake and hearing his voice calling from still awful far away made me wonder then who was shaking my shoulder.

I cautiously opened my eyes, more from the sunlight's earlier effects than in any concern, and found myself face to face with a kind looking old man who I could see right through! This caused us both to startle and jerk back, though for me such action was followed by a gasp of pain originating from behind my eyes. Fast movements were still beyond my ability it seemed.

The old man, who was of course Sven, relaxed as well at my plight and began to smile in a way that was rather similar to the all knowing one my father was wearing this morning as well. It was not so much that he was judgmental, but rather sympathetic for having likely been in this same state more than a few times in his own life. He raised his hand palm facing me and spoke some words of which I only understood 'stop.'

Obviously he was advising me not to move around so much which I nodded in agreement to even though I did not understand his words. I also was not thrilled that his volume of voice was far louder than would normally be used by two people sitting as close to each other as we were. I wondered if perhaps before he died old Sven's hearing had begun to fade so he spoke at this volume because he had become used to doing so in life.

He said something else but the words had no meaning to me, even when he pointed to the fishing pole of mine with its line floating in the water. Thankfully by this time Eldrenn and Inga had made their way around the edge of the lake where they had been sitting and over to me. Since I had not seemed in any danger the pair did not seem to show any either, though Inga did lean on Eldrenn's arm as if she were expecting him to protect her.

"He asked you what type of bait you are using." Inga translated for me.

I chuckled and pulled the line from the water showing I had not used any at all. The ghost looked at this and then at me and spoke another phrase that Inga translated.

"He says he is sorry for disturbing you." She reported. "He thought you were actually trying to catch fish, not just fishing for more sleep."

I asked her to thank him for me and explain the ale in this land was a bit stronger than the drinks in my own. I did not mention my drink of choice was water or milk most often. It did not matter for the ghost merely nodded in understanding.

Over the next few minutes he asked us about where we were from, since we obviously looked nothing like the locals, and why we were here. I had her tell about my father's trade mission but avoid any mention of the reason the three of us were he at the moment. I thought it better to learn what we could before the ghost got wise to our intention to exorcise him.

Old Sven took this information with a smile and asked if we wanted to learn a thing or two about fishing since we were here anyway? I accepted and over the next three hours Sven explained the different types of bait and the various tricks to make the line land where you wanted it to. Eldrenn, Inga, and I practiced all the tricks that the old man showed us, making all the corrections he suggested without comment.

Over that time because of such a small subject area I found that I began to pick up enough Lamordian words to hold a piecemeal conversation on my own with Sven providing the subject remained fishing. In fact my basic conversation ability so impressed Inga that she suggested that Eldrenn and she should return to the other side of the lake and leave the pair of us to our discussions. Neither the old ghost nor the young man who was left behind failed to see right through that offer to know the pair really just wished to be alone.

In truth the rest of the afternoon went by rather rapidly as Sven not only improved my fishing skills but also began to expand my Lamordian language skills by producing various objects in and around the lake and teaching me the proper word for them.

Other than his loud voice which I slowly grew accustomed to, especially as my hangover fled, and the fact that Sven was of course dead, I found that I had truly enjoyed my afternoon when it came at last to an end. In a way he filled in the gap in my own life by my missing grandfathers who, like my grandmothers, had all died before I was born so I had never gotten to know them. When I left that day I told him I would return the following morning which seemed to please him as he faded from sight.

Eventually I joined up with my companions and I found they were doubly embarrassed by the passionate kissing I had caught them in the middle of along with the significantly larger number of fish I had caught compared to the pair of them. As he was my friend I told Eldrenn I would share my catch with the two of them so we would not need to explain how we had spent our afternoon any more than was required.

We walked back into town carrying the fish which was immediately noticed by the locals who stopped to stare. By the time we were in front of Inga's house her father and my own were standing on the porch waiting for us and a crowd was slowly following in our wake to see what we would report. The fact we had a significant number of fish, along with the detail that they had not rotted made her father smile and nod, even if he did not like the glow his daughter was wearing every time she looked at Eldrenn.

Over a meal of finely cooked fish filets that the other men from last night along with their families and a few others joined us for in the common house that evening Eldrenn and I were asked to tell what it was we had learned that day. I took the lead in this and the only on who seemed to be surprised by this was my father and Inga's parents, neither of which said anything about it.

By the end of the meal the questions came around to two subjects. The first was whether by our success I thought the curse on the lake had been lifted and villagers could begin fishing again? To this I responded that I would want another day at least to confirm this for myself since I could not say what had been the true cause of this effect.

The second was how soon would it be before we would send old Sven on to his next life? That question was of course harder to answer, not only because I really did not know what it would take yet for him to find peace and accept this journey, but also because I had to admit I had come to like the old ghost and would undoubtedly be sad to say goodbye to him.

To try and meet this need I explained as best I could through translation and my own budding grasp of Lamordian, which my father admitted he was duly impressed with, the events of the Staunton Bluffs haunting and how we had to learn the ghosts were waiting to be reunited with each other before they were willing to move on. I turned the report to a question and answer session at that point asking for what the villagers remembered of old Sven and what might be keeping him here?

This raised a lot of debate around the table until the end of the night, one in which Eldrenn and I politely accepted only a single mug of ale each and then used distractions to swap our more full mugs with those of our neighbors who had less. Whether or not any of them ever caught on to our game I do not know but I do know none ever complained about this ruse if they did. My father of course watched us with an approving nod the whole time.

As the evening meeting drew to an end I have to report honestly while I had learned allot of anecdotes about old Sven I was not any closer to understanding what it would take to bring the old man the peace his spirit deserved. My father had sold all his goods by this time and had begun the process of purchasing local products for the return trip which he expected would take at least two more days so I asked the villagers for this time to complete the investigation. I figured if nothing else worked I would just finally ask Sven himself if it came to that point.

The dinner broke up and the locals returned to their home. Inga was escorted by her mother and her father so there was no misunderstanding about where she would be spending this evening and in whose company much to Eldrenn's disappointment. He soon went to bed to mope about the ending to his day.

I talked with my father for a little while longer before retiring also to my own bed. As I fell asleep I dreamt of fishing beside old Sven.

The next day was much like the previous only Eldrenn and I were feeling physically much better. At least my friend was until he learned that Inga would not be joining us this morning since I had demonstrated last night such a quick grasp of their language. She said she had chores to do but if she got a chance to break away she would try to come check on us and perhaps bring us some lunch. I have never seen the offer of a meal so liven up the spirits of my friend Eldrenn as when she mentioned this.

Eldrenn and I had not even cast our lines into the water before Old Sven's voice came booming across the lake to us in greeting. I watched carefully as he approached and noted that he stepped slowly and methodically around the lake instead of floating over it and bypassed obstacles like small boulders rather than moving through them. I wondered if perhaps Sven simply did not know he was dead. I assume such things could be possible

Sven started with his booming voice as he came up to me and Eldrenn by asking us what type of bait we were trying today. I said we were going with the worms like we had yesterday but he immediately cancelled that saying we should spend a few minutes catching some marsh flies because he had been watching the fish jumping for them all morning. Almost in response two did so not ten feet from the shore where we stood.

Never having caught marsh flies Sven went about showing us how that was done as well and within thirty minutes or so we had already landed one fish each and the day looked likely to produce even more.

Sven spent the times between our catches helping us with more Lamordian words until by noon we were conversing rather well in simple sentences that were not focused solely on fishing. At that point I decided to steer the conversation to other subjects and hopefully learn what was necessary to put the spirit to rest.

I started by asking him about his family and he explained he was an only child and that he had never married in all his long years. He seemed embarrassed to talk to two young boys about women so he left it at that he had many close female friends over the years but never any he had wanted to come home to night after night. I said that I understood completely but that my friend beside me might not see it that way. Luckily for me Eldrenn was lost in his own thoughts and missed both the joke and the pair of smiles that came at his expense.

I then turned the questions to if there was anything he had always wanted to do in his long life but had never gotten around to? He thought about this too for a moment and then answered no. He said he was pleased with all he had done and felt he had live a very full life even if it was someone simple by most people's standards. I must admit to myself that the contentment he radiated at this statement made me believe him completely.

After each landing a pair more of fish and having the way I jerked my rod corrected, I asked my next question, namely why did he speak so loud? He cocked his head at me and said in truth he had not even noticed he was doing it. He laughed this off and said it was probably the results of living alone for all his life. Since his was the voice he most often heard he did not even notice anymore how loud he was. He apologized and with conscious effort began to speak to the pair of us in what would be considered a normal conversation volume level. I told him it was not a bother only a curiosity on my part but he waved me off saying the last thing he wanted was for people around here to thing he was some sort of strange guy or something. We both laughed at that comment though I think for different reasons.

Inga did find a way to stop by quickly with a packed lunch of cold meat and bread sandwiches. I thanked her for the food and gave a wink to Sven when she asked Eldrenn to help her find a hair bow she had lost in the woods on the way here. The couple came back a few minutes later holding hands and neither the ghost nor I said anything.

Before she left Inga noted how many fish we had already caught and that this was an even better haul than yesterday. While Eldrenn took this as an issue of pride I suddenly realized the danger in this and began to release some of my catches back into the lake. When Sven asked me what I was doing I explained that if the pair of us came back with more fish today that the three of us had yesterday then Inga's father was likely to wonder the reason for this sudden level of newfound success. By having less success today her honor, and likely Eldrenn's health, were protected.

As the afternoon passed and we listened to more of Sven's stories I had not been able to come up with what it was that was keeping his spirit here at the lake. I was also not certain that he had in fact been the cause for the rotten fish issues the other villagers had suffered under so I decided to try and solve that mystery at least before we called it a night.

"Sven we ate the fish we caught yesterday and they were delicious." I started and then listened politely for ten minutes or more on what the best way he knew of to prepare them. In truth the recipe he described in fact made my mouth water and I recorded it for tonight's meal if fish were once again on the menu.

After this I turned the conversation back to my subject. "I heard a few weeks ago a pair of fishermen here had caught some fish but they had smelled spoiled and been unable to be cooked or eaten."

At this point Sven was distracted by helping Eldrenn land an eight pound monster without snapping his pole or line in the process as he answered. "If it is those boys who threw rocks then they got what they deserved. They were disrespectful when I offered my help so I'm glad to see that they went hungry for the night or two that I was angry over the incident as well."

"So you are not mad at them any longer?" I asked hoping that perhaps this was the key to the whole incident.

"Naah." Sven responded. "I always thought life was too short to hold grudges."

I laughed inside and could only nod my head in agreement to that sentiment.

We returned to the village with less fish than yesterday but smiles on our faces all the same. As I suspected my father was on the porch with Olaf awaiting word of today's success. We showed him the fish, which I did note he counted twice before nodding at the number and then asked us what we wished to eat as we told our story. I suggested the fish and even the way to cook them as Sven had described to me. I even stayed in the kitchen with Inga's mother to ensure she followed the directions I had been given even though cooking meals was not seen as man's work in the village unless one was a bachelor. At mentioning this Olaf disappeared for a moment to check up on Eldrenn and Inga and found them sitting on the porch talking, and thankfully that was all they were doing when he snuck up on them.

After the meal, which everyone who tasted the fish admitted was the tastiest way to prepare this dish that any of them had ever tried, I recounted the day's events saying that as far as I could tell Sven was not being held here by any overriding desire. The villagers took this news neutrally for while it explained what the source of the problem was not, it still had not identified a solution to these events.

They did perk up when I suggested that the village fishermen could return to the lake and should not suffer further any issues like before provided they did not instigate anything further either. While this was seen as good news the villagers decided to wait at least one more day since I told them tomorrow I was planning to reach to the very heart of the matter and ask Sven if he even was aware that he was dead. Since no one had any idea how he would react to such a declaration the villagers agreed it was better they avoid the lake for another day and await our report.

Once more we ended the evening early but not before Eldrenn and Inga were caught kissing behind some boxes in the warehouse by Olaf. While he was not a violent man, it was obvious to all involved that he took a rather dim view on the forwardness of his daughter's actions. Once again her parents marched the girl out of common house between them followed by the rest of the villagers who were trying hard not to laugh at the whole event.

My father took Eldrenn aside and spoke to him in private and when they finally came back to the area of the room we were occupying I saw that much of the youthful fire that had been in my friend's eyes for the past few days had been stoked lower if not quenched entirely. Eldrenn went straight to sleep and when I asked my dad about what the two of them had spoken of he asked me if I really wanted to be the recipient of that particular speech at this time or if I would prefer to wait until a better time. Realizing by his serious tone how tired I was I decided to wait.

As I lay in bed thinking over the day's events I started to develop a plan on how to solve this situation in the best means possible for all concerned. Unfortunately it would require my speaking to Olaf to borrow one of his children and I was not sure he would take kindly to the idea. But that was a concern for the morning. For the rest of the night I dreamt of fishing once more with my grandfather Sven.

I woke early the next morning to find that Eldrenn had decided at my father's prompting to spend the day with him helping to load the wagon and prepare for a departure the following day. I have to say I was disappointed by this change of plans but I could see by the look in his eyes Eldrenn was feeling guilty both for his own actions and the trouble he had likely caused Inga as well. A few hours of hard manual labor would likely exhaust him to the point of forgiving himself I hoped.

I left the common house and went straight to Olaf's, knocking politely upon the door holding a pair of fishing rods but standing there all by myself. He answered the door in a less than pleased look and for the first time in days I realized how big Inga's father was.

"Am I to assume young sir that you have come to ask my daughter to go fishing with you?" His voice while not angry was obviously stressed. Some men, usually one who were rogues in their younger days where women were concerned, often had a hard time when their own daughters came of age. I suspect many wondered how many young men like they themselves had been now had designs on their own precious girls. In fact I recalled Sven had told me at one point yesterday when the pair had gone to search the woods that 'Daughters are god's punishment on fathers for once having been boys.' I now fully understood what I think he meant by that.

To alleviate his concern over his daughter's honor where I was concerned I laid out the plan that I had come up with last evening and what I hoped this would accomplish. To be fair Olaf listened intently to my plan and especially to the rather personal aspects of it and nodded in understanding. Finally as I asked a final time for his family's assistance on this issue he relented and agreed, even going so far to pat me on the back and ask if all Darkon boys were so intelligent and open minded as Eldrenn and I were. I merely accepted the compliment without comment realizing there was nothing I could say that would improve the situation and much that could reverse it for me.

Twenty minutes later I reached the lake edge all by myself and found Sven once again awaiting my arrival and saying that today he suggested we used balls of bread dough as bait. Thankfully Olaf had sent me off with some more meat and bread for my lunch since implementing my plan was likely to build up a bit of an appetite.

The ghost and I fished and talked like friends for a few hours as we had the previous two days until I slowly began to turn the questions back around to the most important subject of the day.

"Sven may I ask you a personal question?" I was polite for I did not know how he would react.

"Of course Rudolph since it is you asking and not your love struck friend." Sven replied. "I'm sorry but at my age I don't think I could remember enough to offer advice on young girls." We both laughed though I did have to remind Sven that his voice had grown loud once more. Once we had calmed down he turned to and motioned me to ask my question.

"Sven you do know you are dead right?" I asked. I am not sure what I expected. Part of me though maybe he would deny this and another part thought he would burst into a rage and likely deny me eating anymore fish this evening. But of course neither of those things happened.

Sven instead turned to look at me and a smile lit his face. "Of course I know it." He responded with a laugh. "You don't think I figured that our when my fingers kept passing through my fishing rod every time I tried to pick it up?" Once more his laughter boomed out across the otherwise placid lake.

We fished perhaps for another half hour before he prompted me to continue asking my questions once and for all on the subject. I smiled at how well he had read me and did so.

"Why then did you not pass on to the afterlife or whatever you call it here in Lamordia?" I asked.

He paused and considered this for only a moment before answering. "I have everything I wanted here." He replied. "There is no one waiting for me to join them so I decided why not spend my eternity right here in a place I love?" His answer was so simple and so truthful that all I could do was nod in acceptance and turn back to my fishing.

At noon as I had planned we heard the troop of a single pair of feet approaching and true enough Lief, Inga's younger brother, came marching down the path holding a fishing pole and wearing a huge smile upon his face as he spotted Sven and I. Sven turned and looked at me wondering why I was smiling so much at this arrival so I decided now was time to spring the trap of my plan and forever put to rest the Loud Man Ghost of Lamordia as he had come to be called in the village.

"Sven I will have to leave with my father and Eldrenn in the morning." I stated noting that I was a bit choked up saying the words that had lain heavy on my conscience all morning. I could see a flicker of regret in Sven's eyes as well at this parting but I did not let that detract me for telling my story.

"But after telling the villagers about my time I spent with you we all came to the conclusion that you have far too much to give to let you sit our here all by yourself without company. For that reason I presented my solution to this situation to Inga's father and he accepted this whole heartedly." My words were heartfelt but I could see by the look in Sven's eyes he did not trust people who tried to manipulate situations for their own gain as I seemed to be claiming to have done.

At this moment Leif reached the two of us and after putting down his small box of tackle he turned to the ghost and asked in the open eyed and honest voice that only children, to include an eight year old Lamordian boy, are capable of. "Grandpa Sven can you teach me how to fish?"

Sven was actually knocked back a step, not a minor accomplishment for an immaterial being, before his eyes left the boy and turned back to my own. At that moment I determined that it was possible for ghosts to cry for spectral tears seemed to be brimming in the old ghost's eyes as he turned back to Lief. "I would like that very much grandson."

Olaf and other members of the town offered us a significant reward of gold for solving this solution for them but I did not feel right taking it for in truth I had done nothing more than bringing together members of a community that should have been this way all along. My father accepted Eldrenn's and my decision with no little pride himself for the villagers to a man told him he should be exceedingly proud of the sons he had raised even if they were a bit short of stature. Olaf even went so far as to say that all of us were welcome to return every year and that he would even accept Eldrenn dating his daughter next year if we happened to return.

The hug he gave my friend was awkward for Eldrenn but no more so than the kiss Inga gave him in front of the entire village to include her parents. The town hooted at this keeping her father from raising any immediate issue at least until we were beyond the sight of the village.

We reported our success in Martina Bay and that caused other merchants to follow our example and open these trade lines between our two countries. This also provided us some follow on information about the village when we passed back through Martina Bay on our way back to Rivalis that early fall.

The village had come to love Grandpa Sven and not a day went by when children were not asking him to teach them how to fish or wives were coming by to learn all the tricks of cooking the old man had come up with over his seven or so decades of life. I smiled at all of this but could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy over the fact that others were spending time with my friend and I was unable to. But I am not a petty man and I knew if my path ever led me back to that village, the ghost would be happy to chat with me once more. And I of course will always treasure my times spent with my Grandpa Sven as well, even if we had no bonds of blood between us. Though we spend only three days in each other's presence, the lessons he taught me about life, and even death, stay with me to this day.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Summer of Year 685 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 6_**

Admission to the University of Il' Aluk is no simple task for those not born of the aristocracy which I most assuredly was not. For those of the upper crust of society a simple letter by the well known parents that identifies their intent for a child to attend a given college is enough of a declaration to ensure that child's name appears upon the school rolls for the appropriate year. I have heard these notes are often accompanied by a significant stipend to slide the matter through without any administrative issues as well. Whether this serves as a proof of intent to pay or is perhaps an alumni donation to an institution that receives no tax monies for the local government I do not know. Either way it served to ensure the university was still in existence as I was coming of age to attend and that the universal golden rule, those with the gold make the rules, was properly maintained.

For those not of the upper crust, admission was a far more complicated process, depending especially upon the course of study one sought to enter. Medical school, which was of course my intention, was by in far the most difficult to join in spite of its known rigorous study requirements which were outweighed by the prestige associated with this occupation and the few numbers of students, only a dozen per year, kept its admission board always having many more names than available slots for students. In part to alleviate this issue the board instituted a process where potential enrollees actually met the board three full years before they hoped to attend.

This process was designed to weed out those without the patience and dedication to see the process through to the end since no one wanted their village doctor to be quick to give up a challenge. It also meant to pursue my career dreams that I would be returning to Il' Aluk in the summer of my fourteenth year.

Seventeen years of age was the earliest age that a student could begin attending classes at the university and by the summer after I had just turned fourteen my parents were in agreement that I should begin attempting to enroll at the earliest opportunity because I faced a rather uphill battle in the process. First of all, as I said I was not noble born. Secondly I came from one of the villages rather than the capital city. And thirdly it was not unheard of that individuals wanting a medical degree would first attain a different diploma, theology and philosophy I have heard are often popular choices, before reenrolling and being accepted in the medical college.

My father and mother prepared me for this last option saying that I should not worry about the price of eight years of study compared to the average four to five to become a doctor that they would still see to funding it. My focus was to remain solely upon my studies and not be concerned about the financial aspects. While that was agreed to in principal I felt it was important for me to somehow make it into the medical school as early as possible and save my parents this additional expense. By now my father was not enjoying the road nearly as much as just four years ago when I had began travelling with him, and my mother was feeling the weight of age as well as I watched her hair turn silver over the past two years.

So for the first time in four years it was decided that I would not accompany my father on his travels, at least initially, but instead I would travel to Il' Aluk and submit my admission request to the university. There I would wait for however long a period it would take for the board to meet with me to review my records and grant me an audience for admission. I had been informed such things could take up to a month which is why my father could not afford to linger in the city with me.

There was a bittersweet solution to my dilemma created by this situation since my mother was hard set against her fourteen year old boy living by himself at an inn for a month or more. Eldrenn's father over the fall had been forced to give up his silver smith practice because silver ore had nearly doubled in price in response to another buildup for war in Falknovia, the hostile nation to our south. This made silver objects too costly for any but the richest to afford, and there were few such families in Rivalis to support a year's worth of work by Eldrenn's father.

Eldrenn's family still had a significant savings from the good years such as the selling of his holy symbol artifact, but Eldrenn also had three younger siblings by this point so the family also spent money at a much higher rate than my own did. His father was not one to sit idly by as the money slowly ran out so he decided he needed to expand his opportunities by learning a new, if similar trade. For that reason in the spring, even before my father was preparing to leave, Eldrenn and his father departed for Il' Aluk where both were going to apprentice to a tin smith.

With the increasing spread of iron and steel for weapons and other implements of war, bronze had over time been relegated to fewer and fewer such tasks because it was not as reliable or as sturdy as these other alloys. That meant mines that produced copper and tin were now in lower demand. The former of course still supported minting of the most common coin used in the land, but there were no similar tin pieces of currency at least here in Darkon or any other place I had heard of.

But tin was found to be a light and sturdy metal to use as a replacement for silver in other arenas such as cookware and utensils and was significantly cheaper as a raw material. Tin plates, cups, bowls, and silverware were some of the most popular in the land, right after wood of course that certain races such as the elves used almost exclusively. Also Darkon had its own tin mines and therefore was not subject to fluctuations in price of such ore as we were with silver. Based on all these factors Eldrenn's father determined there was always demand for tin smiths.

As I have said before Eldrenn was hardly pleased with smithing of any sort as a perspective occupation but he also realized that with three younger siblings if something were to happen to his father, his mother would be looking to him to help support the family so he grudgingly accepted the role in life he was forced to follow at this point. He did tell me however right before he left that in a way he was pleased with this temporary move because it put him close to the College of Magical Studies, most referred to it as the College of Wizardry or Magic, which was another of the University of Il' Aluk's courses of study that focused upon teaching spells to young enchanters with a magical gift, something Eldrenn had always claimed he felt he had.

So the solution to my own enrollment issues was that I would stay with Eldrenn and his father, who insisted I do so as a partial payback for the summers his son had traveled with my father, while I awaited my acceptance hearing. My parents made a point of giving me a small number of coins over the protests of Eldrenn's parents in case I saw something for purchase. They also provided me a second more significant stash of such coins that I was to keep hidden from my host to use to ensure I was not a burden on the limited funds of the pair during their apprenticeship when neither yet made the full wages for a day of work as a certified tin smith assistant would.

On the way to the city the only oddity I recall was that my father and I passed a Vistani troop of four of their brightly painted wagons on the road between Rivalis and Il' Aluk. Neither we nor they seemed interested in stopping to converse about what lay ahead of our perspective paths which was perfectly fine with my father. It was not that he had any personal dislike for the Vistani, he just had no desire to get entangled in encounters with people who were on the Witch King's bad side.

A momentary chill passed through my body as I recalled I still owed these people a service by a promise I had made three years ago and I half expected one of them to jump off their wagon and make this claim on me here in the middle of the Darkon countryside but of course that did not happen. They rode on past us with only a head tilting acknowledgment to my father who responded in kind out of politeness as he would to any other travelers.

As the last wagon passed us I could not help but turn my head to follow its course. I noted immediately that there was an old woman riding in the back of this conveyance smoking a rather large pipe. When she noted my attention she blew a rather large smoke ring and gave me a smile and a knowing wink that made me turned immediately around and look once more to the road ahead of us as we pulled farther away. Even then I am still certain I could hear soft feminine chuckling riding on the wind for sometime even after their wagons had disappeared from sight.

I submitted my admission letter to the College of Medicine and specifically to a rather skeptical looking clerk who noted the cut of my clothes compared to those of my well off contemporaries and nodded and shook his head at the same time. He then informed me that it was my duty to come back to this building by the seventh bell each weekday morning where the names of that day's interviewees would be announced to those present. If a perspective student failed to attend their scheduled meeting they would not be accepted into the starting class for year six hundred and eighty eight. I could hear the laughter of the clerk about my application and likely my appearance even before I made it out of the building.

For the first week of course I diligently attended the announcement and determine that my name was not one being broadcast for that day's interviews. This therefore left me with a full day to spend by myself since Eldrenn and his father had apprentice duties to see to. I spent that time investigating the city, or at least the parts of it that seemed safe to me and where one dressed in moderate clothing was not shoed away as beggars might.

I found many tasty places to eat at reasonable prices and watched travelling street performers, none of which Vistani of course, beg for coins in exchange for their entertainment. While not rich I did drop a copper of my own for these if I felt they had earned this.

One such performer called himself a medium who was supposedly able to speak with the spirits of the departed. I spent more than a few days that first week watching him perform this skill as he told widows where their departed husbands had left secret caches of coins or parents who wished to talk with children they had put to rest. I could not attest to the truth of his performances, but I did admire that if it was merely a hoax the man was also a skilled ventriloquist for the living loved ones seemed to always recognize the voices that spoke from his body to them.

I also found two small bookstores that I was warmly welcomed into after I demonstrated both my ability to read and that I had coins to pay were I to find something that struck my interest. Since I was both cautious with my funds and carefully not to take up too much space in Eldrenn's house I refrained from making purchases but instead worked an agreement with the two owners that I could sit and read the volumes they had available to them for the price of a single copper piece a day. I think both men were rather lonely and neither could afford to pay for any additional help so they looked at me as a solution to these issues, especially when I convinced them to let me bring some order to their stacks of books.

It was on the ninth day of my morning travels to the university to be again disappointed that I saw the elf standing in the street waving his sword around to get the attention of those who passed by. This in itself was a rather remarkable situation in the city which was only increased by the detail that the elf himself was also a ghost.

Although I was in a rush I could not help but pause and take a closer look at this situation. I weaved through the crowd, whose members did not seem to mind because none of us were sure whether the phantom sword that he held could cause real damage or not. As I got closer though I could also see that the elf's rather animated motions were being matched by facial expressions that could only be attempts to scream words to those of us watching. Much to his obvious frustration either he realized his words made no sounds or his entire audience was deaf.

I felt the charm the Vistani had given me years ago on my chest began to warm and I called to the elf, thinking perhaps its magic would allow us two to communicate somehow. But like all the others that had tried and failed, my own attempts to converse met with a complete lack of success. Finally, knowing the time to be at the college was fast approaching I regretfully departed and ran the entire way to the building.

To my relief the clerk had only just emerged from within but this did not stop him from noting my almost tardy arrival and shaking his head in obvious disappointment or dissatisfaction. Not surprisingly my name was not one of the six called out that morning either. I also noted that the crowd that stood there each morning was not shrinking by any significant number though some of the familiar faces from the previous week were no longer present. Did this mean more were still applying or did the well off applicants send servants in their place rather than wake up so early on a consistent basis?

As I left the university grounds again to spend my day organizing and skimming through more books I noted the elven ghost was no longer standing across the street. Except for the university security personnel at the gate, there was no one immediately available to ask what had happened to the spirit and the watch members did not seem to have any interest in talking to me more than they had to.

The next morning as I was on my way to the announcement the ghost was once again standing in the same spot, silently shouting and waving his sword trying to communicate in some way with those of us living and passing him on the street. Once again my charm seemed to warm against my skin but after trying a second time to speak with him and failing I knew I had to not be late again so I departed. However, this time I offered one of the homeless beggar children, a half elven girl it turned out, who camped out along this road a copper coin if she would keep an eye on the ghost until I returned in an hour or so at which time I would pay her for telling me all that happened.

The girl of mixed parentage, whose name was Chanella, would likely have made a successful merchant if she had been born into a deserving family for she demanded, and received an agreement from me of, one copper up front as proof of my intentions and a second to be paid upon providing her report. I agreed partly due to the lateness of the time and even more so because I found her argument quite charming.

It goes without saying that my name was again not one of the six called. However I did note that it seemed to me as I looked over the crowd during these announcements in the previous days that there always appeared to be at least one student's name called that did not evoke the standard gasp or display of excitement as if they were absent from this process for some reason. I wondered if perhaps the clerk was under orders to call such names if he did not see their owner present as yet another means to weed out those without demonstrated dedication.

I wandered back to the street urchin and after turning over my second coin, which was going to have paid for my lunch I might add, the half elf told me the ghost had stayed in the same spot for nearly an hour before finally giving up and fading away into nothingness once more. I thanked her and spent a few minutes asking after her situation and her parents until she politely asked me to move along as my standing here was costing her business in donations to her pathetic looking act. I had to smile about Chanella as I made my way back to the book stores.

The issue with the elf ghost continued to trouble me because I knew, and the charm seemed to indicate as well, that the spirit needed help in some way but was being prevented from getting this by its lack of ability to communicate. Be it fate or happenstance I found the potential solution to this problem sitting outside the steps of the bookstore in the form of the medium who had been talking to the dead for coppers.

It was still early for his performance and I noted he had merely taken a rest on a convenient set of stairs while he munched away at a ham filled roll that served as his breakfast. He recognized me as one who had given him coins in the past but had never asked to speak to any of the dead myself so a grudging nod of acknowledgment was all he offered as he finished his meal expecting me I assume to enter the shop where I was now recognized as a regular by all who lived and worked on this particular street.

Instead I paused on the steps and took a seat right beside him patiently waiting as he swallowed the last of his meal. He took a swig of water since the bread was a bit dry and then turned his full attention to me. "Is there something I can do for you good sir?" He asked.

"First I would be honored if you would call me Rudolph." I replied trying to break the ice.

"Okay young Rudolph, my own name is Ivan, and what can I do for you?" I noted the odd way the medium rolled his letter Rs when he pronounced them and being familiar in my travels with just about every portion of Darkon I realized he was not from our land.

"Sir I do not mean to be rude but is the power you claim to have true or is it merely entertainment?" I asked. I knew for example that while there were true magicians and students at the College of Magic, there were also a number of street illusionists who used flash powder and other tricks to amaze and delight an audience. I saw no harm in such things provided the performer did not overly fleece their gullible audience which I knew Ivan had never done.

He looked offended at first and then actually fearful. "I suppose if I were to say the wrong thing you would inform your Kargat or Kargatane masters and I would find myself under more detailed and thorough questioning?" While upset, he whispered this accusation to me for no one spoke of these two groups in anything louder than a whisper; especially in the city of Il' Aluk.

"I understand your concerns." I said. "But I truly have need of someone who can converse with dead spirits." This caused him to stop and stare at me for a long silent minute.

"Then I ask your forgiveness." He seemed to calm down more. "You must understand we former citizens of Barovia who found displeasure with our lord and lived to escape still do not find much acceptance here in the land of his sworn enemy either."

I knew through my history classes that Lord Azalin and the leader of Barovia were sworn enemies and it was rumored even that assassins had come to our land more than once to seek the death of our king. Since these had likely been sent from Barovia it seems understandable to me why people from that land were looked on with suspicion in much the same was as the Vistani were. What a terrible choice to make when the enemy of your enemy sees you as an enemy as well.

"So you have a dead relative you wish to speak to?" He asked likely interested to part me with a few of my copper coins.

"Not exactly which is why I need to know if you truly have such a gift as you claim to." I replied.

He seemed to consider my request for a moment before sighing and responding. "I do indeed, though in truth rarely am I able to speak to the dead requested." He answered somewhat guiltily. "In the Village of Barovia I found I could let the spirits of ghosts enter my body and speak to the others they had known in life. At first this was a blessing for I did indeed tell people where loved ones had hidden treasures and such. But later I had an accident while using this power."

I was intrigued and leaned forward while he whispered to me. "I allowed a ghost of a murder victim into my body and she claimed that her killer had been none other than our land's leader, whose name I shall never again speak." He shuddered at the memory. "What she said to the small group of us scared me, but it was made worse by the fact one of our number was an informant for the Count himself. It was only by mere chance that I was not present when his wolves broke into a house and killed all who had been present when the ghost told her story. All that is except myself and one other based on what I could observe from the remaining parts of bodies lying on the floor. I do not know for certainty who survived but obviously it was the informer who had turned us all in to save their own life."

"I realized my own was also forfeit if I stayed in Barovia so I fled the border with the Vistani who I always thought served the Count but were willing to help me escape for a price." He continued. "They dropped me off outside this city saying that it was here I would find safety from the Count as well as be able to use my gifts but I think they said that merely as a joke, knowing all the time we Barovians are not loved here in Darkon."

"What is it like to have a ghost enter you?" I asked somewhat in awe since seeing the effect General Athoul's arm had on his informer I could not picture what an entire spirit might do to a living body.

"It is like making a deal with a merchant." Ivan laughed at a private joke. I decided now was not the time to explain what my father did for a living. "The spirit is made to promise to answer questions, usually three, if in exchange I give it the means to feel alive again if only for that short period of time. The trick is, like with merchants, trying to determine which are attempting to cheat you with their false promises."

"So are you afraid?"

"Not usually." Ivan replied. "Although sometimes I have to experience the feelings related to the moment of the spirit's death which is rarely a pleasant memory to relive."

"So what do you charge?" I asked hoping I could afford to part with such funds.

"Here on the street five copper." He replied. "Few people who seek me out could afford more and in truth I rarely find the spirit they are seeking so my conscience will not allow me to ask for more. I do sometimes work on a contingency basis, answering questions in lieu of a percentage of the funds recovered, but only if I know for certain that I will actually be channeling the spirit in question so that I have some hope of making a few coins on this deal in the process."

"I know of a spirit I would like to channel." I replied after a few moments of careful thought. "And I will offer you a silver piece to do so."

Ivan cocked his head either at my request coming on the heels of his admission he was usually a fraud or at the larger than normal sum I was offering to pay. "So what is the job?"

The pair of us sat there on the bookstore stoop for nearly an hour as I described what I needed and the plan I had in mind. Ivan was polite and even offered up wording suggestions to improve my questions saying that some spirits who want to keep their secrets try to use loopholes in the way a question is phrased to avoid answering it honestly. I thanked him for this and made an agreement to meet him tomorrow with the promised funds regardless of whether my plan succeeded or not.

The next morning found me once more outside the walls of the University of Il' Aluk watching the elven ghost's increasing frustration at not being able to communicate with the living around him. This was made even worse still for him, because after three days of appearing in this same spot and at the same time he had become more of a local eye turning curiosity now rather than the attention grabbing spectacle he had been for the previous days.

The people on the street on their way to work or the store or wherever other such actions in their lives required them to travel now only cast him a glance in passing rather than stopping to try and speak to him as we all had done the first day he appeared. In a week I doubt most locals would even notice him anymore and he would become just a background part of the local scenery like the building or the trees that stood above the university walls yet no one stopped to admire.

According to my plan I was of course an exception to all these others. At the appointed time and when I knew all the parts of my scheme were in place I strode right over to the ghost and began to try and communicate with it once more waving my arms dramatically and shouting without speaking to drawing its attention to me. I failed as miserably at the former as I had for the previous two days but succeeded in the latter, seemingly stunning the elf with my display, making him wonder perhaps if only the mentally disturbed now were going to take him seriously.

At the next moment I saw him startle as if her had sensed something odd and quickly look around in confusion but at that point my savior, the young street waif Chanella, came running up to me waiving her arms every bit as dramatically as I did as we had a seemingly boisterous almost to the point of violent conversation right in front of the ghost. Once again his eyes were drawn to the pair of us, even though I could see he was still feeling that something was not right. The increasing warmth coming from my Vistani charm made me hope that I had worked out a proper solution to this problem because my plan was not without risk.

Ivan, looking no different than any of the other people currently walking this street and heading for destinations of their own, was upon the ghost before the elf knew it or was able to react. The medium had told me that there were a series of chants he was required to speak aloud to open his body up for possession by another spirit and to help bind it to his will to answer questions and I suspect these being spoken aloud as Ivan walked our direction was what the elven ghost had sensed.

In my travels to Staunton Bluffs I had learned that elves more so than any other race as a whole respected what the spirit of an individual represented. They saw the undead as even more than an evil like the other races treated it but more as an abomination against the natural world order. Free will, which was the very essence of the spirit, was the most sacred gift to an elf. It was for this reason that elves and half elves cremated their dead so that the spirit was able to go free and not be locked in the body of a rotting corpse for all eternity. And it was why I assumed, rightly, that elves would take a very dim view on possession by spirits even if the victim of the crime was the spirit and not the one being possessed. This confirmation came immediately when Ivan stepped inside the spectral ghost and literally drew the spirit into his body like one might were they to breathe in a cloud of smoke.

"Damn you humans for your treachery once more!" Ivan spoke in a language that I did not initially comprehend but whose fluid tones I could only assume was elvish. Thankfully Chanella at my side knew this language having learned it on her mother's knee and translated the ghost's comment to me along with a few additional words I would rather not print and am still shocked a girl so young even knew. I quickly offered her a full silver piece as well if she would continue to perform as a translator for me which she agreed to without any further debate.

"Let me free humans!" He cursed us. "Is it not enough that you kind slew me and in so doing kept me from a promised afterlife by my failure to keep my oath, but now you must taint my soul in this way as well?"

"Ghost tell us why you haunt this place." I ordered and made sure that the girl knew to translate this with the same level of demand that I had infused the demand with. I heard her do so and though I do not know the words she used, the tone matched what I expected it to be.

The elven warrior in Ivan's body tried to resist but the hold the medium had over it was stronger, at least for the duration of the three questions we could ask of it. Through clenched teeth it was forced to reply. "I must have proof that I kept my oath to protect the child of the Royal House of Tethyr from the assassins that dogged our steps. I know only that he fled to this city not where he may be now."

The answer surprised me but I could see by the sweat on Ivan's brow that I did not have time to think over these events at present but must instead ask my next question. "Tell me ghost of the events that still bind you to this world." Once again the girl repeated my words in elvish with all her skill and no sense of fear, and admirable trait in one so young.

"The young prince of Tethyr was given into my care and I was told to flee to where I could to keep him safe." He began. "No one asked my destination for then there would be no one to torture to reveal it. In truth I had no idea of where to go though I decided that the great city of Waterdeep to the north would be a good initial location to lose us both in a crowd."

"Assassins roamed the countryside slaying distant heirs and looking for those who had escaped. I knew they had magical lists whose names would fade from the pages when the heir was slain and through this process all the killers knew who was still to be found." He explained finally accepting his fate for the moment. "It was not long before groups of assassins were on our trail and while I could stay ahead of some, I knew it was only a matter of time before they would catch us so when the fog arose before us I was happy to be able to use this for additional cover and to perhaps lose my pursuit."

"We emerged here in this land, though I do not know where this place is for the stars do not appear as they did in my home." He explained. "We could see the lights of this town in the distance and began to ride toward it. Unfortunately the assassins had not been so easy to lose and they were soon once more bearing down upon us. With regrets I gave the prince my horse and ordered him to hide in this town. And out there in the fields south of your city I did battle with the forces of the assassins, those who had been called The Scorpions, slaying many of their number before finally falling to their poison coated blades."

None of the details that the elf spoke of to me were any of which I as familiar with. I knew of no land of Tethyr or its now likely dead royal family, nor had I ever heard of The Scorpions. It was with trepidation that I asked my final question exactly as Ivan had told me to speak it. "Tell me ghost what will it take to set your spirit free!"

Sadness came to Ivan's visage that I knew must be a reflection of the elven spirit's feelings. "I must know that the bloodline of Tethyr lives on. That the boy I gave my oath and life to protect is safe from The Scorpions who sought his death."

The battle seemed to go out of the spirit at this point and with a moment of convulsion I saw the ghost float free from Ivan's body and stand before us once more. No longer was he the fierce elven warrior holding his sword. Now he looked merely like a tired elf hoping to be released to his afterlife. I swore to myself as I paid my two helpers that I would do what I could for this stranger to my land.

I returned first to one than the other of the bookstores that I spent my time to see what I could learn of these events the elf had spoken of. As I saw it I had a few specific clues to start my research with and a full day at least to pursue these leads.

I started by asking the owners of the bookstores if they were aware of any of the major events the ghost had spoken of. First had they any knowledge of the land called Tethyr? To my disappointment neither had ever heard of such a place and while one of the stores had a rough map of our land and its countires, none of them were known by such a name nor were any of their listed cities. This led me to fear that the elf and his charge were not from our land but instead carried by the mists like other strangers I have spoken of before were. If that were true then Tethyr would likely be beyond my abilities to research with any chance of success.

The next question I posed to each of them was where would orphans and strangers be taken if they arrived in the city with no means to support themselves? I learned to my dismay that a city the size of Il' Aluk had no established orphanage and that most children would likely end up in similar straight to the half elven waif who had assisted me for the past two days. Of course there were always benevolent institutions like churches that would take some in when they could. More often it was the charity of individuals that would bring such children into their homes and see to their needs, effectively adopting them as one of their own in all but name.

In some occasions they may actually be formally adopted in order to pass on worldly possessions in the event of an unexpected tragedy or death, incidents that occurred far too often unfortunately. Those legal transactions and their associated records were maintained by the university's College of Law since they were not seen as an issue of law enforcement and thereby under the jurisdiction of those organizations who will not be named.

Such adoption though was a slim hope but I left it in the back of my mind as a last chance course of action if nothing else panned out. I decided that since I would be at the university tomorrow morning I would try then to see what I could learn about such situations.

While legal adoption was the pinnacle of my optimism, the alternative was described to me to be far more likely. Children without parents or means of support in Il' Aluk often fell into the hands of the criminal elements. The luckiest ones that showed a level of promise became thieves and beggars and as long as they produced wealth for their masters, they were fed and given a safe place to stay during the hours of darkness. Those that failed consistently to meet these quotas were useful examples to the others when they were tossed out into the night, or into the sewers to fend for themselves. Others were said to e sold into slavery for the pleasures of their new masters.

I did not spend much time speculating on what would happen to the elf's charge if this had been his fate. The guilds of thieves did not keep records of their members and were even less likely to keep records of their victims. These types of things were too useful as a tool to be used against them by their rivals or law enforcement if they were lost. Without them one could not speak of what one did not know.

My last potential lead was the name of the assassin band; The Scorpions. It seemed likely that if they had taken such a name to inspire fear in their rivals and victims then it was likely they would continue to use it out of common practice. To my surprise both bookstore owner's recalled this band though they did not remember all the details since it was events that had occurred in their respective childhood, possibly as much as fifty years earlier. Once again they suggested I research this more at the university library where records of such events were maintained.

By the evening meal I found my excitement of the morning's plan succeeding had led me back to the reality that my chance to help the elf ghost was unlikely at best. I consigned myself to the idea that if the university library did not offer up any useful leads I would be forced to likely surrender this quest to something beyond my ability to solve.

I paused outside the university that morning to allow he elven ghost to see me. While our eyes met his expression showed nothing but contempt for me since I had violated his spirit to learn all that I did. I spent a moment talking to the half elven girl before leaving her a copper piece to keep watch on him again today. In truth I wanted to give her the coin and needed a reasonable excuse now that we had become friends somewhat. The stories I had heard of yesterday about the lives such children led made me feel guilty for the blessings of my own and in a way responsible to help where I could with Chanella. She asked what the copper was for and my response was so that she would stay close in case I needed her to translate again later. She quickly pointed out I had paid her a silver for that yesterday. I laughed and said the price would remain the same, the copper was only so she would stick around in this area at least until the ghost disappeared.

I walked to the back of the registration hall and stood for fifteen minutes while all the others gathered as well. By now many of us knew each others' faces and we nodded a hello so to meet the propriety rules of good manners without having to actually get to know anything about the people we were competing with to attend this school.

I was in the process of trying to figure out which building on campus was the college library when I heard my name announced by the clerk, shocking me out of my musings. "Excuse me sir I am Rudolph Van Richten and I am here sir" I said trying to be respectful.

"I know you are here Van Richten, what I was asking you is if you intend to make your scheduled appointment or instead would rather give up this notion of becoming a doctor and return to your village where you belong?" His arrogant nature set my teeth on edge but I dared not say anything that could get me in more trouble, especially at this point. Unfortunately that left me in a bit of a predicament.

"Yes sir I will be there." I said

"That is good to know boy now if I may get on with my announcements?" He asked.

"Of course sir." I replied. "Except…"

"Yes Van Richten?"

"What time did you say my appointment was sir?" This instituted a round of snickers from the rest of the members of the crowd who were still waiting their own names to be called.

The clerk of course was anything but amused. "The tenth bell Van Richten, that is if that meets your needs. I am certain the board would be willing to change to a more convenient time to match your schedule if that were necessary."

"Yes sir…I mean no sir… I mean I will be there at the tenth bell sir." All in all this was the most humorous announcement I had observed in the more than ten days I had been coming here. It was only unfortunate that I was not able to share in the humor being the source of the jokes and all.

I thankfully found the library without inventing yet another means to be the brunt of this morning's humor. It was a seven story structure, though only three levels were above ground. Six of the levels were individually dedicated to the major colleges on the university and those seeking to enter them had to show membership in those schools to be allowed entrance to that level and its contents. While some readers may find this odd the reasons for this were two fold. First of all some of the works were nearly priceless and were required reading for students in that college. Copies were scheduled for these books but such things take time and resources.

The second and more important reason for this caution was since one of the schools was the College of Magic the materials available to those students had the potential to cause great harm and even death if just handled by the wrong person. To protect against such accidents all colleges could designate works as belonging to their school only. If some were needed for multiple colleges, the university had sufficient copies produced immediately and each level then had their own.

Thankfully the ground floor was open to all students for general research and it was in these materials that I was likely to find my answers to my investigations if they even existed. That was until I got my first look at the potential size of the problem.

The bookcases on the south one third of the level were laid out in ten rows of ten, each with five shelves. The north side of the room was exactly the same in reflection. In the center of the room were the stairways leading up and down along with the research tables and chairs and the librarian's desk.

I have no doubt I looked like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing as I spun in place realizing the impossibility of my task. Books came in all shapes, sizes, and colors and only some of them had any writing on the binding to identify what they contained. The closest shelf that I looked at first had only books in foreign languages which almost finished the work of completely confusing me until I realized they were purposefully segregated this way for easy research.

At this time thankfully the librarian noted my plight and called me over to her desk. This early in the morning there were few students about doing research and none of them were working on this floor so she had little else to occupy her mind. I could see her studying me as I took a closer look at her as well.

Like the stereotypical librarian she was a woman well past her prime age. Her hair was dull gray and pulled back in a ponytail and held in place by a single black ribbon. Her clothes were well made but rather out of style in age by at least two decades. She in every way looked like a woman who should be resting in a bed somewhere not one who was in charge of this level. But I noted a wisdom and a youthful fire in her eyes that whispered to me there was more here than I was seeing.

"A bit young to be a student aren't you Master…." She asked in a rather sweet and kindly old voice.

"Rudolph Van Richten ma'am." I replied. "My friends call me Rudolph and I would be honored if you would as well. And I do not think anyone has ever called me master."

"Now I know you can't be a student of THIS school." She said aloud to no one in particular it seemed. But after a moment she turned her full attention back to me. "You do look rather young are you actually a student?"

"No ma'am but I am applying to the College of Medicine." I replied. "I assume it is ok for me to be here?"

"Actually according to the rules it is not since you are not currently enrolled." She replied nearly crushing my spirits with that one statement. Then she turned them around in the next breath. "But those old fuddy duddies' rules make no sense if they are actually trying to be the institution of learning they claim it to be. If that is so how can we turn away anyone seeking knowledge I ask you good sir?" She smiled at me and I knew right then she and I were going to be friends.

"That you Miss…"

"The students call me Tess my young sir, at least to my face or I toss them out through the very doors you came in through." She smiled at me.

"I will try to remember that Tess."

"Please do. Now what brings a fine young unpresuming man to my library at so early an hour?"

"I am trying to find someone who was lost ma'am."

"Shouldn't you be talking to the authorities then?"

"No ma'am, I mean Tess" I saw her frown at my failure again to use her name. "I think he was lost many years ago so I am trying to do research to find out what happened to him."

"Well that is surely an interesting mystery that has pricked my curiosity." She replied. "Since I have read every book on this floor how about you let me help you with your research? What was his or her name?"

"I don't know what his name was Tess." I replied sheepishly.

"That will tend to complicate things." She said but did not seem at all deterred. In fact if anything this seemed to inspire her. "What do you know about him for sure?"

"I know he was being pursued by a group of assassins called The Scorpions if that helps."

Her eyes lit up. "It does indeed Rudolph." She motioned for me to follow her weaving through the shelves heading for a specific area. "The Scorpions were indeed a group of cutthroats and kidnappers operating in this very city as a matter of fact." She explained as we walked. "It was forty seven years ago that the Kargat destroyed their group after letting them operate for years before that with no interference. This change was supposedly for planning an attack on Lord Azalin himself. So that means the person you are looking for is at least fifty years of age."

"Actually ma'am I was told the person I am looking for was one of the first of The Scorpions' targets."

"Really?" She stopped to consider this information for a moment. "The earliest records of the group's existence date back about thirty years before their extinction. That would meant the person you are looking for is at least eighty years of age son."

"Yes ma'am."

"Is he human?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am…I mean Tess." Her eyes flashed at my repeated formality before think more about this issue.

"You realize it is unlikely that he is still alive right?"

"Yes ma'am, but in that case I am hoping to find his descendents."

"Why?" She asked. "Is this part of a will?"

"Not exactly Tess."

"Rudolph I think you better tell me the entire story so I can help you as best I can." She pointed me toward a rather comfortable looking couch and bade me to sit down and get comfortable while I told my tale. She sat as well, though on the puffy arm of a great chair so that she could seeming spring up and race me to her books once she knew what it was I was looking for.

Over the next hour or so I explained to her all I had learned of the elven warrior and what it would take to free him. She sat patiently and listened to it all without so much as a glimmer of doubt. Finally when I finished she sat silently and pondered it all for a few more minutes before finally speaking.

"Rudolph this is an incredible story." She said. The word incredible was said in a monotone voice level to mean hard to believe rather than excitement creating. "What do you hope to gain from this?"

I looked at her cocking my head in confusion at her suggestion. "Nothing Tess." I replied. But if I do not help this ghost he may be trapped here forever. You said that the one I am looking for is at least eighty, I would guess closer to ninety based on his likely age at the time of my story. Any more time wasted will only make the trail that much harder to follow so if I do not help him now who knows if the next person who tries to help the elf will even have any trail at all to begin with?"

She nodded at me in understanding. "You will make a fine doctor one day Rudolph." She said. "I just wish all your contemporaries had the same level of compassion and concern for others that you show."

"Thank you Tess."

"One last thing what was the name of the land you spoke of?"

"He said it was called Tethyr, though I have not found any record of such a place existing." I answered

"Tethyr?" She spoke the word slowly and clearly. "You are sure that is what he said?"

"Yes Tess."

"Then Rudolph my boy I think I may just be able to help you." She smiled before raising her palm and showing me a pentagram shaped birthmark upon her skin. I looked at her confused so she explained.

"I told you to call me Tess because no one ever seems to pronounce my name correctly." She started. "That is until you did. My name is actually Tanischa Tethyr and I think the one you are seeking was my grandfather who took this name but until now none of the family knew why."

"Then he is dead?"

"Yes Rudolph, for some thirty years now I am afraid.

"Then the elf can not be set free?" I said with a profound sense of sadness.

"On the contrary." She replied. "According to your story he simply needs proof that the bloodline was protected. I think I qualify as that proof don't you? He should recognize me since all born of my grandfather's line share this same birthmark."

"No offense Tess but might he only see you and still question if the line is safe? You are only a single person not proof that there are others." I rationalized.

"Of course you are right about being the last." She smiled. "Except for my four children, eleven grandchildren, and currently three great grand children." She laughed. "And that is ignoring the descants of both my brother and sister plus my two uncles as well. All in all I suspect there are nearly four score of our bloodline here in Darkon. If that is not enough proof then I fear your ghost friend will be impossible to convince."

I knew the ninth hour bell had rung recently but I still hoped I had enough time. I asked Tess to accompany me and the pair of us walked briskly across campus to the gate, she was very spry for a woman her age I will admit, and out into the street where the elven ghost looked to be surrendering for the day and beginning to fade.

I ran headlong toward him, nearly getting killed by a slop cart in the process, waiving my arms and trying to get the elf's attention. Since I knew my words were not heard by the elf nor even in his language I screamed instead for Chanella to come quickly and join us. She was startled but was up on her feet immediately and coming to join us.

Thankfully the elven ghost saw my approach and this gave him reason to reverse his fade though he did seem to take a quick look around to make sure I was not attempting another possession on him. We were suddenly face to face and I realized I still had no way to communicate our success. I growled in frustration asking my companions for any ideas.

"Can he read?" Tess asked drawing forth a coal stick and a small journal she kept in a pouch by her side.

"I think so but probably only in Elvish."

"I can write in Elvish." Chanella injected. "But it will cost you a second silver." She smiled as she negotiated. I placed the two coins in her hand, looks like another day without lunch at least, and told her to write the Elvish alphabet since there was no way he would be able to fold the stick if he needed to ask more questions.

The ghost looked as she wrote the letters on the page and nodded his understanding at what we were doing. Once complete Tess tore those pages from her book and lay them at the feet of the ghost. Meanwhile I directed Chanella to write exactly what I said.

"Noble elf, your oath was kept and you honor unstained." The elf looked at these words with a question in his eyes but happy to see I had found a way to communicate. "This woman here is the descendent of you charge. She is the proof that he lived to assure the bloodline."

At my words Tess raised her palm and showed the elf the mark upon her hand. The ghost smiled in recognition of what that meant. Still holding his sword he pointed to a series of letters at his feet which Chanella dutifully copied down until she understood what he was asking.

"How many live?" Chanella translated.

"Tell him eighty two." Tess spoke up before I could answer. Chanella immediately made the symbols and the elf nodded his head in a look of contentment and happiness. He raised his hand to clap me on the shoulder but his hand passed right through me. Instead he bowed to me and then to Chanella in thanks. Finally he looked to Tess and went down on one knee while offering her his ghostly sword.

She looked at him and spoke aloud. "Find your deserved rest protector of Tethyr." Chanella began to scribe the words but there was no need. The elf's spirit understood the command and he faded one last and final time from sight. I breathed a sigh of relief. That was until the ten hour bells began to chime back on the university grounds.

"Oh dammit!" I said, cursing for the first time that I can recall and without a word of explanation began running back across campus to my appointment that I was now officially late for.

I raced up the steps to see the clerk shaking his head at me as he was obviously closing the door to the interview room. Realizing that my future was slipping beyond my grasp I pushed past the surprised clerk and into the room where four middle aged men and one woman sat behind a cold looking desk with alternating looks of shock, outrage, and humor.

"May I assume you are Rudolph Van Richten." The centermost gentleman who was the very image of outrage asked.

"I am master." I replied.

"The correct term is Master Professor or Doctor." He replied. "Both of which are title I do not think YOU shall ever earn Mr. Van Richten."

His cold demeanor silenced him until the woman to his left, the only one of the group who appeared amused spoke up. "Let him at least explain his tardiness Gunther." She offered. "We have the time and it might at least be entertaining."

I stood there stunned without knowing where to begin or what I might say to be able to convince these people who literally held my future in their hands to give me a chance to interview. But nothing at all came to my mind except that I would have to tell my father I had failed him.

Then a voice called out from behind me. "Gunther sit your aged arse back in the seat and let this boy tell you how he saved not a life but an immortal soul this day and that is why he was a few minutes late to your little inquisition." Tess's voice spoke up from behind me and I found that not only she but a rather dirty and offensive smelling street waif had come to my defense as well. In truth they were the only army I was going to get and I was happy to have them that my face actually beamed for a moment.

With Tess's encouragement I related how I had spent my nearly two weeks of time in Il' Aluk culminating in the events to put to rest the elf's spirit less than an hour ago. At each point where the crowd seemed ready to throw us out thinking my story totally unbelievable, Tess or Chanella would provide collaboration of their own silencing the argument before it had a chance to get a hold.

When I had finished and stood in silence it was the woman at the table who spoke up first. "That is without a doubt the most fantastic story or most boldfaced lie that I have ever heard spoken in this chamber which is saying allot!" She started with a smile. "I vote for your acceptance just based on the likelihood you will be vastly more entertaining to watch than any student I had ever before seen."

Master Professor Gunther scowled at this. "I reject him for the very reasons you stated." He replied with a scowl. "We are here to educate not entertain. Go become a bard and leave medicine to those who take these responsibilities seriously!"

The younger man immediately to Gunther's right though was more solemn and brooding during my story and had not seemed to give any indication of which way his thoughts on my future lay until he spoke. "Rudolph, by helping that ghost you have likely damned your own future." He said in a serious tone. "Was it really worth that son?"

I thought for a moment only before responding. "While I never actually considered that at the time sir, now with a moment to look at it I must admit yes sir it was." I replied. "What are the few decades of my life against the possible eternal pain he would feel?"

The man nodded at me. "Then I agree you should be admitted. People with the temperament to risk their own future for the sake of others are the types of students we should be seeking out to recruit into this college and profession not to reject." He looked to the last two undecided professors at the table as he spoke rather than to me and with his simple speech swayed them to my cause as well. This was much to the obvious frustration of the Master Professor who did not even try to hide his displeasure.

"Well young Van Richten it seems that I was outvoted so I must therefore bow to the will of the board and accept your enrollment beginning in the fall of year 688." Gunther spoke through clenched teeth. "It is however within my prerogative to make your acceptance contingent upon your demonstration of dedication to your studies. Therefore I shall assign you areas of research each year upon which you are to come back and report to me about each summer. If you can answer my questions sufficiently you will be accepted."

"To make it fair Gunther we will ALL be in attendance for his reviews." The female professor injected. "I would hate to see an error in correcting his test cause a fine young man to be rejected from pursuing his dreams."

"With that caveat then Van Richten you may depart for now." Gunther replied. "Return in one week from today and see the clerk. He will have our homework assignments ready for you by then."

I merely nodded at this, afraid anything I might say would wake me from this dream. I could not believe all that had occurred. I let the idea truly sink in for the first time and realized that I was going to be in medical school.

Tess and Chanella walked out with me of course congratulating me for this achievement. Finally Chanella paused which drew us all up short. "Something about those words sends a child down my spine." She said looking at the two of us.

"What words?" I asked. "That I have been accepted?"

"No the name that goes with it." She said before shaking her head and beginning to walk beside us once more. "Doctor Rudolph Van Richten. Why do I think it is a name I will hear a lot about in the future?'

Just over a week later I was enroute back to Rivalis on a wagon with a merchant who made this trip every other week, picking up food stocks from our village and selling them at the inns and open markets in Il' Aluk. He was happy for the company and I was happy not to be wearing out the soles of my shoes. I wanted to be able to save as many costs on my parents as I could since my tuition was hardly going to be a simply thing to pay.

My study list the clerk had given me was also going to be a challenge because it required me to learn about many subjects I had never heard of before. Tess, however, had come to my rescue in this saying that she would arrange to 'acquire' the necessary texts from the school library and have them sent to me, through the very farmer I was riding home with, as long as I studied them and sent them back with the next trip. I of course agreed and asked her how I could repay her but she just waived me off saying there is never a debt between friends.

As busy as my own future appeared to be, I had to have sympathy for Chanella. Tess would not hear of letting the girl go back to her life on the street so offered her a choice. She first offered to see the girl adopted by the Church of Hala and put on the road to becoming a priestess. Chanella turned pale white at this idea. The librarian then offered she could come live with Tess, however if she chose this course she would be expected not only to wear some clean clothes that the librarian had as hand me downs from her own children's children but to help around the house as well.

Chanella said she was a terrible cook and by the looks of her it did not seem that cleaning was her forte either. Tess took this all in stride though and said the girl's primary job was going to be reading to her each night as her old eyes were starting to fail her. Chanella smiled at this an accepted, whispering to me how easy a life that would be and never understanding like I did that Tess was really giving the girl an education without her knowing about it. "How hard can reading a few books be?" She asked me as we said our goodbyes outside Tess's three room apartment.

I thought over the size and contents of the library and smiled. "No not too hard at all."


	8. Chapter 8

**The Fool**

_**Sometime in the Summer of Year 686 **_

_**Il' Aluk, Darkon **_

_**Chapter 7**_

The months leading up to my fifteenth birthday were one of the saddest years of my life. First of all my friend Eldrenn and his father came back in the winter with the completion of their apprenticeships but stayed only long enough it seemed to inform us that their entire family was moving away from Rivalis for good.

I had never been one for many friends and the months Eldrenn had been away learning to be a tin smith had been some of the most boring of my life. The time I had lived with Eldrenn and his father in Il' Aluk it had been somewhat like the times I had fond memories of in so much as I had someone my own age to speak with about things. Eldrenn had been disappointed that he had not been able to help me with the elven ghost but was still proud that I had found a solution without him.

Now though learning that they were all moving to Martina Bay to start up their own tin smith shop, sailors it seemed liked such goods, I felt like I was losing a brother. To make us both happier I tried to look on the bright side when we talked as they packed. "At least you will be closer to your first love Inga this way."

He took me aside and whispered in private. "Magic is my first love Rudolph." He said showing me a spell he had been taught that caused a spark to leap from his fingers and shock a sleeping cat who ran off giving us a rather less than pleased look. "I hope to get back to Il' Aluk one day soon and continue my studies. Who knows maybe we will both be on campus together at the same time."

There was something about the way he spoke about his love of magic, some glint of obsession in his eyes, that chilled me so we spoke no further on the subject. In just two days we said our goodbyes, promising to write each other often, but knowing our lives would never again be so intertwined. In the middle of winter I said goodbye to the brother I never had.

Come spring my next tragedy began on the seeming heels of the last. It started as nothing more than a simple cold my mother got walking back in from outside. By nightfall she was in bed with a fever but still promising she would be fine with just a bit of rest.

By the next morning she could barely breathe and my father sent me for a local midwife who had in fact helped birth me. She came and after some examination told my father and me that my mother had pneumonia and that she gave her what medicines she could but it would be up to my mother's body to fight off the disease.

For the rest of the day father and I sat by her bedside, sometimes together as a family, and sometimes alternating, as she slept, holding her hand and speaking softly of good times we had shared and hopeful thoughts for the future. I told her how I wanted to make her proud of me and that I would study hard and become a great doctor just for her, and though I knew she was asleep, my words still seemed to make her smile just a bit.

Around midnight my father took my place and shoed me off to bed saying he could not emotionally afford to have his only child sick as well. A few hours later I awoke from my fitful slumber to hear my mother's ragged coughs and rasps for breath as her body began to lose the fight. I came and sat back down beside her once more, taking her other hand as her body was wracked from within. My father said nothing at all about the fact that I was disobeying his directions to me for we both seemed to know what was coming. We sat without saying a word.

She opened her eyes for a moment and looked at both my father and I asking without speaking for our forgiveness for not having the strength to continue the fight. I squeezed her hand to express my love as did my father until she closed her eyes one last time and her breathing finally stopped. We sat there in the flickering candlelight for a long time thereafter, praying her spirit would move on and find peace and wait for us somewhere beautiful until we joined her to start the next part of our journey.

It was the first rains of spring when I said goodbye to the mother I always had but never treasured nearly enough.

I must say in a way the strict punishment of intensive study that the Master Professor had placed upon me was actually more a benefit for that year than a discomfort. The vast amount of study with the books coming to my home every two weeks meant I had to buckle down and focus almost exclusively on these subjects so I had little time to mourn my losses.

That is not to say I did not feel this level of emptiness inside of me. Instead I used these personal tragedies, especially my mother's death, to push me even harder when my mind began to wander. Though I do not recommend it, I can admit there is definitely inspiration in achieving your goals when you believe your mother is watching over you from the afterlife. As summer started to approach I felt confident that I would make a respectable showing at least before the board.

I also noted that my father did not seem as eager for his travels this year as he had in the past. He was missing my mother and while my father and I were close, my studious ways took time away from what I was spending with him. While I realized this and tried to compensate for it, he did as well and prevented me from doing so. There is nothing like facing a comment of 'if your mother knew you were wasting time trying to comfort me rather that studying she would tan both our hides' to get me right back into the books.

Thankfully at the middle of spring a widow named Elsa who was just a year or so younger than my father, and her daughter Ingrid who was two years younger than me, moved into the Van Dunn home that had lain empty for the past few months since Eldrenn's family had moved. This made my father and me their closest neighbors and after hearing about our family's loss the pair began to over time spend more days with us, sharing the chores of cooking meals and laundry in exchange for wood cutting and other manly type work as they called it.

My father was very up front from the get go with me and said he had no designs on looking for another wife and that he loved my mother way too much to replace her. He said almost the same thing to Elsa the widow as well who smiled politely in understanding saying she knew exactly how he felt and was no way looking for another husband either. She said only that she enjoyed his company because he was a man who was able to understand first hand the loss she had gone through. Her vision was that the two of them could find strength in each other in their grief.

As summer began the two, and through them we children, had settled into what appeared a spousal arrangement in every way except formal oaths and the sharing of a single bed. Elsa came to our house to cook and clean just as my father went to hers to do repairs and such. They even squabbled over Ingrid's future much to my amusement since my own was so solidly established and beyond reproach.

I found this funny because since my father had never had a daughter of his own he had thought he had been spared all the little quirks of raising a girl, especially when she becomes a teenage girl who began blossoming into the woman she was going to be. I can sum this confusing he felt up by relaying one simple story.

I had been in my room in self imposed study exile one day when I began hearing a peculiar thump outside my room every few minutes. The sound was neither constant nor predictable so my mind tended to focus upon it each time I heard it happen. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I put my books aside and walked out doors and around the side of the house and was nearly killed in the process.

Standing thirty feet or so away was my father, the man who refused to sell weapons except in extreme circumstances, struggling to reload a crossbow, a weapon that to my knowledge my father had never even touched before this day. More intrigued than actually concerned I asked my father what he was doing. It is not out of the realm of possibility that Falknovia was planning yet another invasion of our land and he was preparing.

You can only imaging my stifled humor when he told me that Ingrid had gone out on a walk with one of the local village boys and he had brought her home late. Thankfully for him, the boy had done nothing more than hold her hand according to her mother, but my father decided some preventive deterrence was called for; hence the crossbow.

I left him to his practice and went to go see Elsa to report what was going on and share a good laugh. She chuckled right along side of me and then had a request of her own. Since my father had a more likely chance of hurting himself than a potential suitor, would I mind spending time with Ingrid to keep the other boys away at least until my father left on his yearly summer trip? I agreed to her scheme.

I must say now looking back I wonder who was the actual target of her manipulations, my father or myself?

My father also began hinting vocally soon thereafter that he was not going to perform his travels for this year anyway. He knew he was letting down his customers but he really did not feel right leaving his house vacant for all those months.

By the time Elsa got wind of this she was at our door, nearly knocking it from the hinges and explaining to him in no uncertain terms where his responsibilities lay. Not only did she promise him his house would still be in the same shape or better than when he left it, but she even went out back and threatened to begin loading his wagon with goods herself. By the time he left town two days later he seemed to be almost the same man he was before my mother had died.

Within two weeks I was on the road myself with my merchant friend taking a load of early produce to the city of Il' Aluk where I had a date with destiny in the form of the Master Professor. As we rode along I felt a twinge of regret leaving Elsa and Ingrid behind. My father had only been gone two days when Elsa said I were no longer required to spend time with Ingrid if I did not want to, knowing that I was still studying.

The very next day I overheard Ingrid tell her mother that she would be walking out with one of the local boys who I chose not to name here but whose reputation was far from gallant. What Ingrid saw in this young man who was my own age I will never know, especially after having told her my own issues with him when we spent our time together.

I accepted the invitation to dine with Elsa and her daughter and found much to my frustration the two of us were forced to keep the stew bubbling on the fire and nearly burned the biscuits because Ingrid's suitor could not properly judge time to have her back. When she finally did make it home I decided to have a few words with him about the proper way to treat a young lady and the boy merely laughed at me and walked off!

For the record, I now can saw with some authority that teaching yourself how to fire a crossbow is actually a quite difficult task. I recommend anyone in this position instead seek out someone trained for this instruction rather than try to figure it out on your own. I am only thankful that since I was in the process of my last physical growth spurt that I had my shoes made bigger than necessary so I could grow into them. Because of this fact I still have all my toes. The village cobbler of Rivalis was able to repair them for me in a little over an hour so no harm was done in the long run.

Il' Aluk had not changed and while I was prepared to get a room at an inn, Tess would not hear of it and demanded that I stay with her. When the merchant dropped me off outside her apartment I had just raised my hand to knock on the door when it flew open and I was wrapped in a tight hug around my waist with a head of soft golden hair leaning on my chest. "Excuse me but I think you have…"

"Rudolph it's me!" The young girl looked up at me and the soft doe-like almond shaped eyes made me realize I was looking at a very cleaned up and completely different looking Chanella than the street waif she had been when last I had seen her. She giggled at my surprise and ran into the house yelling up the stair as she went. "You are right mom, he WAS completely surprised to see me." She did not even turn to look at me again before she scampered off to her own room.

I carried my duffle into the house and up the stairs to where I could still hear Tess walking around and was shocked to see she looked younger than she did last year. Her step was still firm and if anything her eyes glowed even brighter though they still were able to light even more up once she noticed me standing there.

"Mom?" I asked as way of a hello.

"Chanella's idea." Tess replied. I only nodded at this and chose not to remark at all on the smile that hinted at the corners of her mouth when she said this.

I was shown my room, cramped of course by the size of the apartment but it would meet my needs, for it had previously been a temporary library away from the library. At first Chanella had disliked reading and claimed to be doing so only to hold up her end of the bargain. But as Tess selected which books the girl read she slowly opened her eyes to all the knowledge, all the mystery, and all the excitement that pages of parchment could contain once her eyes were opened to it. In a way she was like the addictive drug dealers who got their customers hooked slowly over time.

Now Chanella was a voracious reader and even worked as an assistant librarian to Tess, being groomed for the day she might take her mother's position at the university. And Tess proclaimed proudly that the half elf girl was not just satisfied with that but had also asked her adopted mother how much it would cost to go to the university when she came of age.

Tess explained to me she had already arranged and paid for the girl's education at a quite reasonable rate which the school was quick to accept in honor of the daughter of a woman who had given most of her life to the institution. What Tess explained was this was there way of 'honoring' someone who knew where all the bodies were buried. In a land like Darkon, keeping bodies buried was a high priority.

My evaluation would not be for another week or so but Tess made sure each night to go over the various subjects I had been directed to know, quizzing me on various details and seeing how I interpreted others. I wondered aloud once how she could possible know so much if she had never attended the medical school herself? To which he only laughed and asked me how much knowledge did I think I would pick up after sixty years of sitting in a library reading books and listening to students?

Once she was confident of my readiness for the exam she brought forth some additional books she said she had been keeping to the side so as to not to disturb my studies. I looked at the books which had no markings, one of which was actually nothing more that rolls of paper tied up with string, and asked her what these were.

"Ghost stories." She laughed and then sat down beside me asking me to read aloud so she and sometimes even Chanella could enjoy what the books contained.

I probably read three dozen or more such works during the next few days as I waited for my examination. This served to distract me from my nervousness about standing before the board again as well as educated me about spirits in general.

I realized that up until now I had never encountered a truly evil ghost that meant to do harm to the living except of course possible for General Athoul. One might wish to say that the child in the Staunton Bluff's haunting fit this description but I disagree. I do not think the child who appeared infrequently if still on a regular schedule truly understood the consequences of its actions.

Children cry when lost or afraid and they seek to be comforted by others. I think that is what the child ghost was in fact doing. I fear only because of the trauma and means of her death she had been transformed into the potential killer she was known for. How could she know that by asking to be held she was condemning her savior to a rapid and painful death?

But some ghosts I learned not only understood this power by which they lived but also desired to exercise it. The reasons behind such decisions were as varied as the stories of the ghosts themselves. Some sought to cause pain because they themselves had been subjected to in, emotionally or physically, while they were alive. Some were transformed by the means of their death and now were like desperate thieves seeking bread so not to starve seemingly harmed the living for they contained the spark of life and warmth that the ghost no longer had within itself.

And most regrettably some ghosts were truly evil in life, and continued their evil on into the afterworld. While I do not know his history, General Athoul struck me as being such a one. He certainly showed no remorse in killing his informant or threatening the lives of those others his ghouls had detained. And since we are told the spirit is immortal, I wonder then if that means the General will long haunt this land and inflict his damage upon others for generations to come?

This of course leads me to an interesting point of contention as well. We are told to live a good life or face the wrath of eternal damnation in the next life. But though his undead existence had General Athoul perhaps found a way to avoid this fate? Has he cheated death in so far as he shall never be judged for his actions committed against others? If so what does that say if the worst among us face no repercussions for their actions? Why would anyone choose to be good?

Let me provide repeat another example of such a spirit that I read of as I stayed with Tess and Chanella. The story spoke nothing of where this ghost lived in life or during what years. My only assumption was since the story was written in Darkonese that it was likely to have occurred within the borders of my land, but this is purely speculation as perhaps this is but the recordings of a travelling bard who told this story while visiting Darkon. Let me only say I could see from events that this could have taken place in almost any land I am familiar with. I transcribe here what I read:

_Ashe was a lovely girl whose sole goal in life was to fall in love with a good man and live happily by his side. She learned to cook as well as the greatest chefs in the land and while she had offers to do this as an occupation Ashe rejected them and told those who asked that she would use this skill only for the man she loved and no others._

_Ashe's voice was lovely as well and while many people who passed by her home could hear her singing to herself, she never honored the requests of her neighbors and friends to sing for them. Instead she said her singing would only be for her husband and their children._

_And Ashe bloomed into a beautiful girl as she reached her late teens and while other girls her age used their beauty to attract the eyes of men, Ashe did not. She wore unrevealing clothes and kept her hair under a scarf so that no one stared too long at the beauty she tried to keep hidden. Like her other gifts Ashe told others that her beauty too she wanted to share only with her true love and their children._

_Ashe of course had many suitors for girls of such talents were a prize many young men desired to win. Many vied for her hand and while she would meet with them each, she never felt the thunderbolt of love she expected to and politely dismissed them saying regretfully they were not the one she was destined to love._

_Her teen years passed, as did most of her twenties and still she had not felt the touch of love she knew in her heart she was destined for. All the girls her own age had all long since married and some even had daughters that would soon be coming of age themselves. Over this time the people of her community stopped calling her Ashe the Beautiful and began to call her Spinster Ashe. Though this made her cry she never stopped believing that true love would still one day find her and she would share with him all these gifts she had stored away for him and no other._

_True to her belief one day a charming and handsome man of wealth and nobility by his dress who was her own age rode into town at the head of three other's who were undoubtedly his men-at-arms by the way they were dressed. Ashe heard thunder in her heart as he rode past without taking note of her and she watched intrigued as he stopped at the inn for the night. Could this be the man she had been waiting for?_

_While she was protective of her virtue, Ashe still maintained a social life so it was not out of place for her to eat dinner at the inn on nights she herself did not want to cook. Fate it seemed intervened and placed her table near to these strangers so that she could hear what they spoke of while she picked at the meal before her._

"_My lord we have travelled for two months now and you have yet to find this bride you have dreamed of." One of the aides spoke, a holy man likely by the way he was dressed._

"_Brother, tell me you of all people do not doubt the vision our god sent to me in a dream!" The noble responded with a laugh that seemed strained by their travels and disappointments._

"_Of course not sire." The priest replied. "But we have visited two score or more of such villages as this one, all which looked like the one in your dream but still we have not found your fated bride."_

"_You need have faith brother." The noble replied. "I know she is close and like you I am eager to return with my new Countess once we are wed. That is why I brought you along so we need not delay the ceremony too long or offend the gods by not sanctifying our love officially in their eyes."_

"_As always my lord you are ever wise." The priest replied. "There is little wonder that your lands have made you rich and still the people love you for the happiness and safety you have brought them."_

"_That my friend is why I must find her." The Count replied. "I must know as well that my people's safety is assured and that no civil war will face my lands if I die without an heir."_

_Ashe listened to this all and felt the thunder that had been in her heart nearly burst from her chest. Here was the man she was meant to be with, and by the god's plans he was looking for her as well! She did something at that moment she had never before done. She pulled back the hood of her cloak and removed the scarf she always wore in public letting her golden hair stream out around her like the halo of an angel._

_It was the regulars in the inn that began to stare that caused the strangers to turn behind them and see the girl smiling shyly at them. The Count was the first to speak up from his group._

"_It is her lads!" He proclaimed. "I knew the gods would not steer me wrong."_

"_The gods be praised." The priest replied as the Count stood up and walked over to Ashe's table. She could feel her heart now pounding rapidly in her chest as she looked up at this man staring with undisguised love at her. He spoke not an introduction nor even asked her for her name. Instead this man of noble means placed one of his knees upon the floor and reached out to cup Ashe's hands within his own, causing her to tremble for no man had ever touched her before like this._

"_My lady I have travelled for many days in pursuit of a dream that wore your face in my mind." The Count spoke. "I trust the gods not to be cruel and that you are unwed so that I might marry you this very night before all your friends and family. Please tell me your heart is free to give?"_

"_It is good sir." She replied as if in a dream._

"_Then marry me here and now I beg of you." The Count said. "Let my priest perform this holy union before all so that I might spend my life earning your love."_

"_You have my love and you may have my hand." She replied almost shocked by her own forwardness but knowing that this was the man she had been destined for._

_The Count rose from his knees and raised Ashe to her feet with a light pull upon her arm as if she weighed nothing. He then called out in a commanding voice to all within the inn and to those within the sound of his voice without. "Good people of this village I ask you to come forth and bear witness to this union." His voice was filled with happiness. "Let no one here ever challenge the honor of my bride but instead let you all bear true faith that she and I were bonded in marriage before your eyes."_

_And there before the entire town Ashe and her Count were married. The innkeeper gave his men at arms rooms, and meals, and drinks free of charge to celebrate this event and the village toasted the couple for more than an hour before she whispered in her new husband's ear and he took her back to her home and made her his in an even more ancient ceremony._

_The next morning Ashe awoke to see her Count dressing and preparing to leave, and while she did not want to tell her lord his business she hoped she might be able to distract him for a while once more. "My lord must you be from our bed so early this morning?" She smiled at him enticingly exposed more than she had ever been with another._

_He finished putting on his boots and leaned over as his lips found her forehead instead of her own. "I am afraid so my dear for there are many more villages for me to explore."_

_Ashe was confused. "I do not understand my love. Are we not returning to your lands?"_

_He only laughed. "You would not like the slums were I grew up my lady. You will much prefer your life here."_

"_But we are married. It was our love and our destiny that brought you here."_

_The Count laughed all the more making Ashe feel cold and small. "There are ones like you in every village Ashe who live lives in their dreams and not the real world. My friends and I are merely bards of a sort, playing the roles you ask of us in exchange for the sacred coin of the realm. Last evening I was a Count, tonight then I will be the priest." His laughter echoes in her mind long after he had left her house and joined his friends upon the road once more. Its sound burned cold in her heart._

_The villagers found Ashe the next day swinging from a rope within her house. In a note she said her shame was such that she could not face them now that her dreams lay in tatters. Her final words on the paper were a curse upon all such lustful men who do not honor the sanctity of marriage._

_The story however ends not there for Ashe's ghost was seen many times over the years. Often she appeared to a groom on the night before his wedding, seeking to seduce him with the taste of one more woman's lips and the feel of another's woman's heat before he bound himself forever more to his bride. It has been said that those who take her up on this offer, and this would be most if not all, are found dead the next morning with only a letter beside their bed which says such is the punishment for lustful men._

As I read this account at first I could not but feel sorry for Ashe for although some might say her expectations were the cause of her downfall I cannot say with any certainty that her sins were worthy of the fate she was dealt. But even though I admit she was an innocent and undeserving of the crimes committed against her, this did not for me justify her actions at and beyond her death. Though a group of men had indeed done her a dishonor, she turned her rage against all men, painting with a wide brush so to speak, and hurting others that included their undeserving brides.

And while the accounts say only that she lured soon to be married men to her bed and one can make the inference that had these men remained faithful to their wives to be then they would not have died in another's bed. I however might have thought the same had I not known a child ghost in Staunton Bluffs who could charm the heart of even an angry man. I could not help but wonder if such a beautiful woman as Ashe was claimed to be with the same ability to charm one's soul as the child could be resisted by even the most faithful and good hearted of men?

I could only hope that if the story of Ashe was indeed true, someone since the tale had been penned had found the girl and put her soul to rest. Unfortunately not all ghosts are so easily understood. I offer as an example the story of The Ghost Lighthouse. Let me explain that this story, which I believe to be true comes solely from a first person account which for reasons that will become clear there seems no way to confirm. May this serve therefore as a warning to those who read it.

_January 1__st_

_I begin this accounting so that if something evil does befall this mission then with the providence of the gods other may learn from our experiences and perhaps succeed where we failed. I have hope we shall see this mission through for I have a stalwart crew of experienced sailors and Edjard who is without a doubt the very best guide and tracker in any type of land that we are likely to encounter._

_It is the mission though that I have been put in charge of that has me worried. Ships have always disappeared in the Sea of Sorrows, for indeed that is how she has earned her name. But twelve ships coming from or travelling to Martina Bay lost within a single month is more than can be blamed on winter storms or foul creatures of the sea for the crews of these ships were all experienced on these waters and one third were captained by men who would not sail beyond the sight of land. Something indeed must be behind this and before our port is quarantined by all sailors and this thereby our town wounded gravely or killed, the city fathers have assigned me the tasks of learning what I may of these events and stopping them if somehow I may._

_My only clue to help me on my quest is the sea chest of the second ship to be lost which still contained her captain's log. Within this book I learned that she reports no troubles to explain her disappearance, the crew is healthy and no storms were encountered nor any issues recorded of repairs being needed. The only item of curiosity is that on the last entry of the book the captain claims to see a light burning on the horizon at dusk that she takes to be a lighthouse she does not recognize. Because the date of that entry is less than a week from when the sea chest was found and the ship should have made port the next day after this entry I am led to think this warning structure is somewhere close by. In my inquires though none are known to any sailor I have spoken of, nor do any such structures appear within a week's sailing from this port._

_I am left with the task of following the course the ships before us took and hopefully finding clues or survivors who can tell me the fate of our missing ships before panic sets in._

_January 8__th_

_Perhaps the worst thing possible has happened. We have sailed the length of the coast to the distant port of Mordentshire, the very port five of the lost ships had last departed from, and we have no sign of the missing craft or crews. Not even flotsam upon the water to mark a ship that might have sunk did we observe on this travel._

_Our captain who is sister to the very captain whose log I have in my room, I wonder if such skill is in the blood, is not ready to say that pirates are responsible for these disappearances. But that could be the only reason she knows of that there is no wreckage to be seen. Instead she plans to return upon the very course we came from only now we shall travel alternatively so that we have daylight to search in those areas we sailed in darkness on our trip here. I hold the faith in the captain and her crew that we might yet find the solution to this mystery._

_January 14__th_

_We can be no more than a day from our home port yet this evening we see a light from what can only be a lighthouse along our coast that we all swear should not be there. Our navigator has shot the stars three times and he swears we are less than fifty miles from our home port. This must be the very light that the journal spoke of that we must have missed in the daylight hours of our first pass. The captain has decided we shall drop sails and lower our sea anchors and stay close to this land for it seems a likely answer to the mystery. Come morning we will lower a longboat and I shall lead a party to determine if this place has something to do with all the missing ships. Thankfully the weather seems to be in our favor for this._

_January 14__th_

_Curse the dark bitch of the sea but our vessel struck rocks beneath the water that appear on no chart we know of. The captain and her crew lowered the pair longboats, now more accurately referred to as lifeboats, so that we might all go ashore but our ship sank before the second could be cut away from the ties and the captain and half her crew were pulled down into the sea after their ship. It seems the curse of the Sea of Sorrows that a captain always goes down with her ship has claimed yet more lives to prove itself again. I only hope that she finds her sister that she missed in the afterlife._

_Our own small boat worked through the rocks to a rocky beach seeing the remains of many or all of the missing ships now so much driftwood washing again and again upon the shore and becoming smaller as their pieces slam against each other and the unforgiving rocks. By this spring I doubt much evidence at all will still exist of the dozen, actually now thirteen missing ships and their brave crews._

_We have only limited supplies so we will wait until morning to climb the rocky beach, thank the gods Edjard was within my own boat for we will need his skills to not only leave the beach but to guide us across country back to Martina Bay if we are to have any hope of reporting our results. A trained tracker will likely be the difference between life and death for us. First we must secure food and water for our travels and the lighthouse atop the cliff above us seems the best location to seek these out._

_January 15__th_

_We begin our ascent of the rocky slope today. The wind was cold, cutting into us during the whole climb. By mid-morning, however, we had reached the first plateau and paused to rest._

_We had not been there for more than a few minutes when our guide cried out. We all turned to see what had alarmed him – and found he was dead. His face was drawn in an expression of terror such as I cannot describe. His dark skin was dry and wrinkled, his hair shot with white, and his fingers clutched in pain._

_While the others searched for signs of some bizarre attack, I did not. I knew in my heart hat they would find nothing. Instead, I turned my gaze to the slender lighthouse that stood atop this barren, mountainous island. We would find our answers there._

_January 16__th_

_I write this beside a small fire that does little to drive off the fears of this night._

_Our climb is at last complete. We scaled though the night, anxious to escape the thing that killed our guide on the plateau. Our efforts were costly, for two more of our company died during the ascent. I can only take heart in the belief that that we all would have perished if we had remained on the cliff during the night._

_Seeing the dread tower from its own level was an unsettling experience. It seems bent and twisted in an impossible manner. I stood there in the darkness trying to make sense of this impossibly tilted structure. No mortal architect could have built it, for the hand of evil shows in its every stone._

_Our quest will end there, I am certain. I pray my life shall not end as well._

_January 17__th_

_There was only one entrance to the tower, a stout wooden door. We gave it our shoulders and it splintered inward, rotten and brittle after years of exposure to the elements. As soon as the portal was clear, a vile odor poured out upon us. The air in the tower was heavy with the smell of death and decay. I cannot say I looked forward to exploring the building, but I knew that we must._

_The six of us entered and lit our lanterns. As the darkness faded away, I thought I detected an unnatural movement among the shadows. I approached, but my examination convinced me it was nothing more than a trick of the light._

_I was relieved by this discovery. When I turned back to my companions, however, all feeling of relief left me. Every one of my friends were dead – slain in moments by an unknown force of evil._

_January 18__th_

_Praise be – the night is almost ended. My exploration of the tower is complete. I know now why so many ships have broken themselves on the rocks below. This place is in league with the darkest forces. It is a focus for all that is evil in the sea. At this very moment the foul spirits of the damned are circling me, kept at bay only by the flickering light of my campfire._

_I know I shall not leave this island alive. Once my stock of wood fails me, the shadows will claim me. I cannot make the descent alone, for the foul thing that killed Edjard on the slopes would surely have me too._

_I shall place the last few pages of this journal in a stoppered flask. At dawn, as the tide recedes, I shall hurl it over the cliff and into the sea._

_Then I shall follow it._

I can only believe this record to be true as it was recorded. In other books Tess provided I learned that there was said to be an island with a lighthouse upon it that appears once every thirteen years in the Sea of Sorrows and always claims thirteen ships and crews before once again fading into nothingness during the interval. Only bits and pieces of knowledge of this place survive, the record I recorded being the most complete of them all. But from the remainder I have learned that a group of ruthless pirates had created the tower to lure ships in to their doom. After destroying the thirteenth innocent ship, one carrying a clerical delegation on a mission of negotiation to prevent a war, the pirates and all the souls they had slain along with their island vanished from our world as a divine punish for the lives the pirates had taken and the war that took more lives still that could have been prevented.

I know not if such a place still appears for ships on the Sea of Sorrows often disappear. In truth the only complete record of this ghostly lighthouse and its trapped and hungry souls comes from this journal that I have now recorded. I can only leave it to you the reader to decide whether to believe such an old sailor's tale or not.

The day of my test arrived and while Master Professor Gunther had challenged my prowess over the various assigned subjects I found his questions easy after the practicing Tess had already put me through. Unfortunately I did not notice that how simply I answered the questions put to me was enraging Gunther for he felt that I was insulting him in front of his peers. It did not help that Professor Westridge, the sole female on the board started by simply smiling at him with each correct answer I provided, then progressed onto laughter, and finally offered him jab of her own suggesting that his knowledge of the subjects was at best only the equal of my own.

Once the examination was completed Master Gunther departed from the interview hall with only a command that I get my next year's assignment from the clerk again before I depart. He offered me neither praise nor insult, but gave me one last cold look that left me rattled as the other three male professor departed after him.

That left me alone with Professor Westridge who I turned to expecting to see smiles of defeating a shared enemy but she held only a deadly serious stare for me as well. "Congratulations young Van Richten for it seems you have a natural survival instinct for stressful situations." The tone she used hinted at some deeper meaning but I was confused and did not know exactly what she was hinting at.

"Thank you Madam Professor." I replied, figuring that I might learn more if I could keep her talking. "But my encounter with the elven ghost was not nearly so stressful." I tried to make my comment light hearted to try to perhaps get her more relaxed and off her guard but I was a child playing in a world of politics which I had no understanding of.

"I was not referring to your fantastic story for being late." I stood in silence as she stared at me for a very long time until slowly a smile crept over her face. "You do not remember what it is I am speaking of do you?" She asked and seemed from her tense posture to be very excited by whatever answer I might offer.

"Remember what ma'am?"

At my words she broke into full laughter. "This is priceless!" I dared not stop her even though I did not understand what was going on. "Here I thought you were playing your cards close and planning to use me as your ace in the hole and now I see I'm not even a card in your deck!" She stood up and walked out. "Once again Rudolph you have my thanks for your value as an entertainer in this world."

I wandered back to Tess's home knowing in a few days I would have my next list and be on the way back to Rivalis in the farmer's wagon. I told her how I did on the oral examination and she gave me a motherly hug of pride and shared excitement, something I had not realized how much I had missed since my own had died.

Then I changed the subject to Professor Westridge and her strange reaction and cryptic words to me asking Tess what she could mean? Tess too had no idea until I asked what she knew of her history.

Tess laid out what little she knew and I remained confused up until the point I realized that Professor Westridge had been the woman professor who had her fortune told by the gypsies four years ago that Eldrenn and I had seen come from the wagon. She had not been among those rounded up, though she obviously knew that I had been in the crowd.

More interesting still was that the man who had held her position on the board before her had been one of those General Athoul had detained and eventually executed for treason. Her position, in fact her entire life, was only still her own by the quirk of fate that she had gone straight inside to her room after her reading and not walked around more to ponder what she had been told to expect.

I knew then as well that since Professor Westridge had remembered me from that day, she assumed as well that I had remembered her and that if I did not get her help in my application, that I would expose her as well. This explained her seeming like of me in front of other, and her dislike when we were alone.

As I rode toward home six days later I still had not decided what, if anything, I would do with this card that fate had provided me. I had an ally I could call upon if needed. But what would using such leverage, which would be little more than blackmail, do for my soul?


	9. Chapter 9

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Summer of Year 687 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 8_**

Another year passed for me relatively as quickly as the previous had due to the studying that I was still forced to keep up with. My books arrived from Tess like clockwork every two weeks in the farmer's cart and with it occasional notes from her telling me to keep studying, gossip about events that occurred on campus or in Il' Aluk, or even stories of how Chanella's own studies were progressing. Of the three I could tell that Tess look the most pride in the third for her adopted daughter was fast becoming as knowledgeable of every book on the floor Tess was responsible for as was her 'mother.'

The girl had yet to decide on what she planned to study at the university and the way Tess spoke of her appetite for reading she thought it possible that the girl would already have read through the entire library before being assigned her first book to review for class. While this was obviously a gross exaggeration I was just as pleased as she was to see that the young street waif who had helped me put to rest a ghost was adapting to a far more normal lifestyle now that she no longer worried where her next meal was going to come from or where she would be sleeping that night.

On my domestic front the passing of time had become easier as well. First the pain of loss of my mother, while not going away, had become a constant pain that I had just come to live with. I still missed her, especially at times when I knew my studies would make her proud, but I cried less and less often over time as I thought of her.

For my father the pain was longer lasting. Thankfully Elsa's presence tended to blunt the very worst of it as the two sat on the porch of our house or her own until night approached and in comfort the two spoke of their separate but shared pain of loss. I knew at some times both of them broke down and cried though I never spoke of such things.

I accidentally caught my father reach out and take Elsa's hand as she wept openly, a move purely supportive and friendly, yet when he noticed that I had seen this he let her hand go and lowered his eyes guiltily. I tried to speak of this later, to tell him that it was alright and time for us to move on with our lives, that mother would not have wanted us to live in sorrow, but he closed down that conversation with a look before I could even make these points. I wept that night but for my father and not for myself.

I spoke with Elsa about this, perhaps hoping to enlist her into my schemes, but she told me that she had the situation well in hand and that my interference would likely only increase my father's pain and guilt. She said this not to hurt me, and certainly not because she had some marriage intents upon my father, she made certain to state that flatly on three separate occasions that I can recall, but because she knew she could help him through his pain and over time make him the man he was. And her reason in doing this for him was so she would help herself as well. Yes indeed Elsa was one of those rare self sacrificing women who took the pain of her family into herself so that they might not be burdened by it and carried it with very little complaint. Our world would be much better with more like her.

While I was unable to enlist my father or Elsa in my schemes, that did not mean the two of them were unsuccessful enlisting me into their own. As one might expect as Ingrid grew older she seemed to the three of us to become more beautiful each and every day. And unfortunately while we three saw this and while Ingrid was oblivious to it, many other young human boys of our village had eyes as good as my own.

The crossbow threat my father and I had developed to blunt their overeager enthusiasm had quickly faded as the local boys realized our threats were all bluffs. Neither of us had the temperament to actually pull the trigger, though I must admit one rather forward boy who had tried to steal a kiss from Ingrid when she had said not seemed deserving to me of at least a flesh wound, perhaps a quarrel in the calf to slow him down a bit.

In a conference while Ingrid was still asleep the challenges we currently faced were all laid on the table. Elsa explained from her own history and from talking to her daughter that it was not any specific boy Ingrid was actually interested in since she accepted dates from at least half a dozen or so on alternating periods of time. Instead it was simply the attention that young men were paying her that the young girl found so intriguing. Boys had never paid her such attention before. Elsa said from her own discussions and knowing what it was like to be a young girl once she doubted there would be any way to get Ingrid to give this up.

My father said from his own experiences as long as Ingrid appeared not to favor any one of her suitors then she would continue to be see as fair game to all the local boys. They both asked me for my review of each of the boys and what I knew of them as far as their honor and intentions. Were any of them worthy of Ingrid in my eyes for then we could encourage her to possibly pay more attention to him? As I listened to the list of names, not one could I consider worthy of dating Ingrid. All of them to me seemed to less that dependable and unworthy of her attentions. This result of course left us back where we started when we called this secret meeting.

Finally it appeared to me that of the three of us I was the only one of the appropriate age to be able to spend time with Ingrid and not make it appear that this was all some plot to keep her away from others. Her mother agreed saying she would 'encourage' Ingrid to spend more time with me while my father would let the word out to the parents of other possible suitors that she seemed to want to spend time with one boy in particular to lower the complications for all of us as well.

In truth I enjoyed spending time with Ingrid, especially in my breaks between studying. I found her to be quiet but quite intelligent and she was the perfect person to discuss some of my studies with, especially those parts that I had to work out to make sense in my mind. She seemed to know instinctively when to offer me alternate options to my thoughts and when to let me work things out without saying a word. I really could not have found anyone better for a study partner.

I even ended up telling her this the evening before I left of Il' Aluk and thanked her for all her assistance over the past year. She blushed and smiled and turned to me and spoke. "I've been thinking the same things about you Rudolph." And before I knew what was happening she leaned up and kissed my lips, shocking us both and sending her running into her mother's house giggling in surprise and happiness. As I wandered home I knew in that instant that my life had forever changed again like it had the moment I had decided to become a doctor.

The ride to Il' Aluk with the merchant that summer was as uneventful as the previous year, which in the land of Darkon is a good thing. While I was happy for the merchant's company and of course the ride I let him do most of the talking as I was still thinking over the kiss Ingrid had given me and the ramification this had for my future, or at least what I wondered it meant. While not my first kiss, it certainly was the one that had the most dramatic impact upon my thoughts.

The road once we left the farms around Rivalis was free of traffic and would likely remain so until we got nearer to the capital. I used the opportunity while the merchant droned on about this year's growing cycle to sit back and rest my eyes and before another mile had passed, I had drifted off into a semi state of slumber. While I dreamt of Ingrid I could hear somewhere farther off soft chuckling laughter that I could not immediately place but which sounded all too familiar. Then I was rudely jerked awake.

"Where in blazes did this lot come from?" I felt the wagon shudder to a stop and the merchant's arm reached out to keep me from falling forward. The first thing that my eyes were able to focus upon was the line of wagons our own had almost run down as we came over the top of a hill. Wagons that were now plodding ever forward on their own toward the city of Il' Aluk just as we ourselves were

I thought at first this dozen or so wagons was a rather large troop of Vistani based on the fact that the wagon right before us was undoubtedly one of their number. In fact only the first wagon was also Vistani and through some unspoken communication these two turned off for a field while the middle ten or so continued down the road without them. Only when the last of these wagons was drawing past the now stopped first wagon of the Vistani did anyone speak aloud.

"Gundarak to Darkon in a single afternoon." The man aboard the last wagon called out. "You kept your end of the bargain Vistani so we will keep ours." The man tossed a palm sized leather bag that jingled with the sound of coins as it landed by the wheels of the lead Vistani wagon. The speaker paused for a moment, perhaps awaiting some acknowledgment but once he determined none was forthcoming he turned his head once more to keeping his own wagon in place behind those of his companions.

The merchant beside me took a drink from a silver flask he kept in his vest and waited for the wagons ahead of us to move on a space before he would start our own horses moving again. When I gave him a questioning whisper he merely said it was better to give those who travelled with the Vistani extra distance so that if someone, and by this I knew he meant the Kargat, decided to investigate they would not accidentally associate us with them. Having seen that happen at the university a few years earlier I fully understood where the merchant's caution came from.

"Gentlemen I would suggest you hurry for Il' Aluk has not seen the likes of that particular circus in quite a few years." The surprising unexpected speaker was a Vistani who stood now beside his wagon bouncing the pouch of coins in his hand and smiling at us. How he had gotten there without me or the merchant noticing him I could not explain. He smiled openly and honestly even though I could feel my companion's uncomfortable shiver at being addressed by ones deemed outlaws and enemies of our land.

"I thank you sir and will have to look into it based on your recommendation." I said to be polite and hopefully end this conversation by the tone I used.

The Vistani man only laughed all the louder. "I am sure you will." He tied the coin belt to his own belt. "Where else would you be able to see trained plain's cats, fire eaters, jugglers, one who can walk the spirit world, and even dancing horses for the mere cost of five coppers?" He turned away from us and back to his own wagon just as the merchant began moving our own wagon at a slower than normal pace. I assume he decided it was better to be moving at let the circus pull away from us than to sit here and possible be seen in the company of the Vistani if someone were to come along.

As we rode past the wagon, the chuckle of the gypsy man as he climbed into his conveyance was all to familiar and reminded be of the same sound that had been echoing in my dream. That coincidence kept me on edge until we reached the gates of the capital.

I had only entered Tess's apartment and put my travel pack down when Chanella came running up to me and told me I was to go straight to the university library. I asked if Tess was okay, since this was the only reason I could see for the immediate summons as my test was not scheduled for another week. With a 'yes yes she fine' Chanella ushered me out the door and led me through the crowds, past the university guards who all seemed to recognize the girl now and did not even challenge her reason for entering the walled off campus. I wondered if any of them know this was the same street waif who used to sit just down the street from here and beg them for coins and what they might say if they did.

We made it to the library and found Tess pacing, something I had never seen her do before, and immediately I knew she was very concerned about something. When she heard our nearly running steps on the solid marble floors she looked up and stopped walking, allowing just the hint of relief to enter her posture.

"Rudolph, thank the divine ones you have arrived." She spoke and before I cold get a word in edgewise directed Chanella to take her place in the library, something the girl jumped at the opportunity to do, and grabbed me by the arm and ushered me back out the door I had just entered. For a woman at least four times my age, she walked rapidly and surely across the campus grass toward the medical school building.

"Tess what is this all about?" I asked as we were reaching the doors. I noted the clerk lifting his head to challenge us but a look from my librarian companion silenced him without a word being spoken. In fact one could not deny that she easily intimidated this man with just a look.

"No time Rudolph." Tess said. "I'll let the college masters explain everything to you."

Instead of turning into the interview room where I had been ushered for the previous two years Tess guided me this time to a stairway and up two levels to the topmost floor where I could see that the level was merely a single hallway that led to the various private offices and quarters of the medical professors on the staff. While I looked left and right I could tell by the spacing of the doors that the rooms got progressively bigger until they reached the other end of the hallway.

We did not stop at any of these rooms along the way and instead went straight to the closed door at the very end of the hallway where Tess knocked only as a courtesy to announce our intention to enter before ushering me through with her close behind me. I had only a moment to register the brass plaque beside the door engraved with the words 'Master Professor Gunther Van Berg' before I heard his familiar voice speak to me in its less than cordial inflection from within the room.

"Ah the young ghost slayer who wants to be a doctor." He sat behind his massive desk and his tone held a mixture of contempt and humor to it all directed my way.

"Master." I said bowing low and trying not to show my confusion. "How might I be of service to you?"

"To me?" He laughed. "Hardly! But possibly to the college boy if your stories are not all hoaxes as I suspect they are."

"Sir?" I asked to prompt him for more.

"You did not explain the situation to him Tess?" He purposely ignored my request.

"There was no time Gunther." She said drawing a scowl from the other man.

"That is Professor Gunther, or Master Professor Gunther librarian Tess." He said in a coldly menacing tone.

"Only to your students and ass-kissing flunkies Gunther." Tess replied calmly and evenly. "Which I most certainly am not one."

"Indeed."

The room remained silent as both stared each other down until finally Professor Gunther acted as if he tired of their game and turned his eyes once more to me. "I recall you had some fantastical story of putting a spirit to rest two years ago and that was why you were late for you appointment is this correct young sir?"

I hesitantly nodded which appeared to be all Professor Gunther was waiting for.

""Well that is perfect then." He looked at us both. "I make no excuses that I did not believe you then and I still do not believe you now. However we now have an opportunity to prove me wrong. If you do so this time then you will be admitted into this school for the coming year as you had desired to. If however, in seventy two hours, since that was how long it took you last time if I recall, the situation has not been repaired, then the board shall know you lied to us and therefore your admission to this college will be denied." He smiled like a predator. "Will there be anything else?"

"Sir I do not know what situation it is you are speaking of." I replied obviously confused.

"Librarian Tess can explain it to you." He pushed the subject aside. "I would offer you my best wishes for your success but all know that would be untrue so let me just say you should get right to work lad for the clock starts as of this moment." As if in emphasis the evening bell began to toll the sixth hour after noon as Gunther lowered his head to his desk dismissively and Tess led me back out of the room.

I was awash in confusion with my head spinning, but Tess did not pause and instead led me on to the next destination with only a few words. "Rudolph, while your future may be at stake, understand there is also a life in jeopardy as well."

Tess led me back to the first floor once more but instead of leaving she turned us down into the main corridor of the building once more and led us to the very same room where Gunther's office was located two floors above, only on this level the room served as the college cafeteria. Oddly enough, however, this dining area presently had one of the campus guards standing out side the door who challenged us once he understood our course but gave way before the glare and a few soft spoken yet deadly serious words of my librarian companion that shocked even me.

We walked through the tables that were all neat and in order and made our way to the kitchen. Once more from the doorway everything appeared in order though there were bowls of freshly diced vegetables sitting on one cutting table along with a knife sticking point first into a cutting board and may have still been quivering or perhaps that was just a trick of the light. Tess said nothing about them so I assumed all was in order.

I noted only two other doors into this room, one obviously led outside the building and was likely where food stores were delivered. It was securely double locked from the inside. The other door most likely led to a pantry and it is to this one we made our way. Tess opened it to reveal a larger than normal food and cookware storage closet that again looked all in order except for one keg of cooking oil that appeared to have leaked on the floor.

"Tess what is going on?" I asked finally when we stopped to look into this room.

"That is what I am hoping you will help us find out Rudolph." She said turning to me and preparing to explain. "I know only about ghosts from the books I've read and like any other subject, perhaps even more so than other subjects, the stories I've read are impossible to prove what is fact and what is purely writer's fantasy. That is why we need you. You have faced such creatures more than once. You are the only expert I know who may be able to solve this mystery and save a life."

"You have said that twice now." I laid my hand upon her shoulder. "Why don't you start from the beginning."

"Sure….but which beginning?"

After a moment or two to collect herself she launched into her tale. "Every one of the colleges has its own cook on staff to feed the college's students and professors since they all spend most of their time here in these buildings. The one here at the medical school was named Ernie, Ernest really but no one called him that."

"He started here at the school just over three years ago last spring, taking over for the previous chef Sarah who was a fantastic cook and a young widow with a child. I used to arrange to come over to this building just before meal time to chat with Sarah who always let me taste test her meals. She should have been a royal cook in some palace somewhere because her food was worthy of the finest nobility."

"Sarah's son got sick with pneumonia three winters ago and while the college would allow her to stay home with the child, they would not pay her salary. Knowing that her son needed a healer's touch Sarah left him tucked in at home and came to the school to cook and then raced back to hire a cleric to bring to her home. By the time they had arrived though the boy had died and there was nothing the priest could do but say a prayer for the boy's soul and offer his mother condolences."

The cause of death struck me a quiet blow for though Tess knew my mother had died I had never told her the cause. I held back the wave of sympathetic grief and let her continue.

"Sarah took her own life that night and I am sad to say and was only discovered because she failed to appear at work and a few of us went to go check on her." Tess showed tears in her own eyes as well. "Professor Gunther showed his usual caring streak and by the end of the day he had already hired Ernie, who had failed out of the College of Magic, to assume the duties. I guess alchemist to chef is not so large a leap depending upon how one looks at the two professions."

"After the first week though we all seemed to know why Ernie had failed in class. If his spells were anything like his meals then it is a testament to the College's builders that he did not reduce the place to ash like he did on more than one occasion with his meals."

"Gunther let him know that he had only one more week to start cooking proper meals or he would be let go from this position as well. Our Master Professor does enjoy his food if you have not noticed." I had actually noticed that his pants fit rather snugly about the waist but had no reason to comment on such things.

"Surprisingly in the next week Ernie's meals, while still rather basic fare, did begin to improve significantly." She continued. "I assumed he either talked to cooks at local inns or got his hand on a decent cookbook and focused on the simplest recipes first until his confidence grew over time."

"With his job secure now Ernie began to branch out to more elaborate fare until last evening when he put together a feast for the graduating class that was a marvel and had everyone cleaning their plates and seeking seconds and thirds." Tess seemed to have enjoyed the meal as well for I could see refection in her eyes. "For me however the meal reminded me of the ones that Sarah had made. In fact I was so bold as to ask him if he had perhaps ran across recipe cards or something?"

"I remember he looked at me in shock as if I had exposed his secret but since there were only the two of us talking and I promised not to say anything he calmed down and thanked me for keeping this fact to myself. Perhaps in a way I was wrong for not saying something more at the time."

"Lord Gunther got up at that point and made a speech for the graduating class that was exactly the same one he gave at each of the previous five years. Our Master Professor is not one for expending more time or effort on students than is required." Tess's disgust at Gunther was evident. "His only changes to the speech this year were three references he made to how much he enjoyed the meal."

"The first time he simply said what a great dinner it had been and this brought a smile to Ernie's face." She explained. "The second one Gunther said he had never had food this good at the college before caused Ernie to blush followed by the sound of an empty pan falling somewhere in the kitchen which the cook went to go check on. Then by the end of the speech Gunther went so far as to say that Ernie, who he had selected for this job to replace the last cook and who the Master Professor could not even remember the name of, just demonstrated Gunther's own skill in finding talent since this was a better meal than any other college cook had ever made."

"Almost immediately we heard the sound of metal pans crashing to the floor and in fact Gunther joked that he thought perhaps Ernie had fainted at the compliment. A few of us went to go check but we found the kitchen in order, though the handing metal pans that had caused the ruckus were still swinging on their hooks as if they had hurriedly been replaced." Tess explained. "However, there was no immediate sign of our cook."

"We heard a muffled plea for help coming from the pantry here and we thought perhaps Ernie had either locked himself in or gotten trapped under a heavy crate perhaps and needed assistance." She pointed to the room which had many such items but all appeared to be in a neat and orderly fashion. "The door did not open at first to our efforts and while two of the students went to fetch more help, I and another listened to Ernie's please for mercy coming from within the pantry. We called out to him but he either did not hear us directly or was too afraid to answer."

"We struggled at the door for another few seconds when suddenly it opened with almost no effort at all. It was as if the lock had been released, though as you see there is no lock upon this door." I noted that too. "Inside there was no sign of Ernie, only the scene you see here before you. It is nothing more than a pantry that appears completely in order except for this odd spill of cooking oil."

I looked down more closely at this since Tess's tone seemed to indicate that I should ad found that rather than a spill and a puddle the oil seemed to have been drawn in very specific lines that were broken only in a few places that by their shape had obviously been where Ernie had been standing. There was no sign of oil beneath where his shoes had been which made me deduce the oil had been draw in this pattern while he had stood here. But why do such a thing? And why would the cook stand here while it was happening? I turned back to Tess once more.

"Rudolph, I think Sarah's ghost is behind not only Ernie's disappearance but also the meals he had been creating for the past three years." Tess confided in me. "I looked all through this kitchen today and have not found any recipes she left behind, but I tell you the food from last night was without a doubt her creation. I think Sarah's ghost has kidnapped Ernie."

Darkness was fast approaching and while I did not relish surrendering eight of my seventy-two hours to sleep, I also realized that being out of doors and killed by the things that roamed the night would be even more detrimental to my future. Instead Tess and I went back to the library to collect Chanella before we headed for her home. While there I asked the two if they had any books on ghosts that described a similar situation to the one we faced but both admitted they did not.

What seemed odd to me was that Sarah had taken Ernie with her rather than simply kill him. While this potentially boded well for the living cook's survival at least of a while, it left me pondering questions I had never considered. I had observed ghosts like the elven warrior fade from view and then reappear the next day but I had never stopped to ask myself where they were during that interim. Did they simply cease to exist? I doubt that since then they would need to be created all over again.

I also knew they did not go on to the afterlife, whatever that might be because that was where the ghosts in Staunton Bluffs had gone once they came to rest. I could not imagine that a place like heaven would allow the elven warrior to come and go, or that he would even chose to do so based on how the various religions described such a place of beauty and love.

Conversely I had to assume that its opposite, Baator, Hell, or whatever the infernal realms are called, does not have an open door policy allowing those who have been condemned to eternal damnation to leave if they so chose either. That idea sort of defeats the whole purpose behind such a place in my understanding.

I asked Tess and Chanella about this and while the young half-elf was every bit as confused as I was, Tess said what I needed was a book on planar theory that supposedly discusses such things. Unfortunately the only university library levels to have such books are the College of Magic and the College of Theology. Tess promised to do what she could to borrow one of these works from another librarian if it could be arranged.

I realized as well that I would likely need to speak with this spirit directly and I asked Chanella if she knew where Ivan the medium was these days. She bit her lip and nodded, saying that he had supposedly fled town not long after our encounter with the elven warrior ghost if the stories her friends on the street told could be trusted. She had once heard that the Kargat had captured him but every now and then when she dropped a coin into the cup of one of her former associates and asked how things were on the streets, she would hear that other unknown beggars were asking after the 'street medium from Barovia' as well making her think that he had actually escaped. I hoped he had escaped and was living someplace safer though this made my own issues at the moment that much harder.

But perhaps I could solve these problems through another way as well, I thought to myself as we all went to our separate beds to rest up for tomorrow's activities.

I found the circus without too much difficulty since it was all the local children were talking about. Those few who had attended it had told the others children who had not and the stories grew both in number and incredibility at a phenomenal rate. I am certain this was the original plan for it was without a doubt the smartest way to advertise such an event that I had ever heard of.

The circus had set up their wagons and tents in the merchant quarter where normally caravans of goods were assembled and emptied. The group had come in a convenient ten day period between such events so the owner of this area had agreed to rent out its use to the circus for a ten percent cut of the admission's purse. Based on the talk I heard and the crowds standing in line to get in I had little doubt both groups had found this agreement profitable and to their liking.

I paid my own five copper to get in and began to walk around the great tents, waving off offers of food, though much of it was strange and smell delicious, and similar offers of games of chance. Those seemed to be particularly profitable for the circus with young men trying to win prizes for wide eyed young ladies standing beside them. I had little doubt that were this Rivalis and Ingrid standing beside me I too would be laying down coins to win her such a gift and myself a smile in return.

The performer's wagons had both words and pictures painted on the side, which was fortunate since the language they had used to advertise such things was not the common one spoken here in Darkon. While I could not read the actual words, the fact that the wagon had the pictures of a troop of short men, though not dwarves due to the lack of beards, spitting clouds of fire around a beautiful dark haired and scantily clad woman made me realize that this wagon was the living quarters of the troop of fire breathers. The other wagons had equally impressive advertisements that made clear their owners. I went in search of the one I required.

The spirit walker's wagon was the least descript, looking more like rolling clouds of grey through which red and yellow eyes seemed to reflect at the observer if the sun happened to hit them just the right way. I found this a bit disturbing but was not so easily turned from my course knowing what was at stake. I stepped up the three stairs to the wagon's door and knocked, politely yet determined.

"Who dares disturb the restful trance of Louis Cypher, Mystic of the Paranormal?" The voice called out in my native tongue but with such a thick accent that it took me a moment to decipher what it is he had said. I could hear him moving around within, perhaps getting dressed or cleaning the place up as he awaited my response.

"Sir I need to speak with you on a matter most urgent." I replied letting my voice show concern and a hint of mystery. I had found such tones work to my advantage in grabbing people's interest and in fact it was a mystery I was enmeshed within so not a lie.

He let the door open inward and looked at me as I looked at him. He was tall, easily more than six feet, though not as broad as the Lamordians had been. Instead he was of a more medium build, still in shape but also of that age where it seemed he was constantly fighting off the extra weight that seems to want to accumulate right along the belt line. His hair was close cut but still showed the beginnings of grey appearing as did the wisps of his beard after a day since his last shaving.

Most unique about him was his very deep set eyes that seemed to see everything around him and were a strange bluish grey tint that changed between he two colors based on how the light hit them or whatever his emotional state seemed to be. Had he not already proclaimed himself to be a mystic I would have suspected such for those eyes seemed to see things in this world that the rest of us did not.

"Well boy don't stand there on my steps come in and sit down." He motioned to the small table in the wagon that reminded me of where I had my fortune told years earlier. This wagon, however, was more brightly lit and had not curtain separating one part from another. He sat down in one of the two chairs and pointed to the other. "Why have you come to see Louis?"

Once again his accent was a bit hard to follow but after a moment I understood and replied.

"Sir I am seeking someone with a gift to speak with spirits." I said slowly and clearly so not to be confused in my needs.

He looked at me as he titled his head judging my intentions and making me feel uncomfortable under that gaze. "You are a young man." He said. "You should not be worrying about the dead but instead should be seeking out the living!"

"Might I suggest you go watch our mighty Princess fend off the hot advances of a tribe of short fire breathers." He offered trying to sell another portion of the circus. "For a boy your age she is just the thing. I tell you that woman is a wonder to behold…and her performance is not bad either." He laughed at some private joke he had made.

I merely shook my head and turned the conversation once more back to my own needs. "I have no doubt sir but I come to you on a matter truly of life and death." I pleaded

This seemed to catch his attention and after a moment to reach in his pocket for a silver piece which he began to let dance across his knuckles he bid me to speak and tell my story.

I did so telling not only of my current situation but of the events of two years ago that led me to this place. I found it difficult to concentrate though on my story as my eyes kept being drawn to the coin and how it seemingly jumped from finger to finger or slid under his palm to reappear in yet another location. I have no doubt that had the story been less than truthful I would likely have tripped over myself in telling it. Perhaps that was the whole purpose of his exercise.

Louis kept the coin rolling as my story ended and he went deep into thought at all I had told him. Finally he nodded to no one in particular, unless he was speaking to someone in his mind, and turned his gaze to regard me once more.

"The place where the spirits go that you spoke of is called the Border Ethereal." He started, but this name meant nothing to me. "If the cook Ernie has indeed been taken there then he is likely dead already or will be soon enough in short order for there is no food or water there, at least any his body will be able to use."

"Then it seems we must go there immediately." I replied.

Louis only laughed. "Travelling there is not like booking passage on a ship young ghost hunter." He said. ""Few are those who have such a skill to reach this place, though I suspect your Vistani friends are some such." This confused me for I had made no mention of the Vistani in my stories. He only continued without noticing my reaction.

"I would say luckily for you I am such a one, though I seriously doubt it was purely coincidence that brought you to me." I tried to defend myself, explain I was not the agent of another but he held up his hand to cut off my denials before they were spoken.

"I will need time and certain provisions if we are to make such a trip." He said to me, though his inclusion of the word 'we' set me a bit on edge. "The time cannot be helped for I must prepare myself for battle if such a thing were to come." I recalled how the elven warrior's sword had passed through observers without harming them, as well as how people and their weapons passed through he ghost with no effect as well.

This made me wonder then how someone did battle with a ghost if neither could affect the other. With all I was learning of such beings I thought this would be a fine subject for someone of skill and learning to write a treatise on for those who came behind to learn from.

"I will make you a list." Louis continued. "It will be up to you to acquire as many of the item on here as you can. The first one, blessed holy water is a must and we shall not travel without it. The others are all nice to have and may be the difference between life and death for your cook."

He scribbled on a piece of parchment before handing it over to me. "Lastly you believe the ghost in question is also a cook as well?" He asked and I nodded for it was the only information I had and I said as much. "Okay I will make that my primary consideration though I will want some standard defenses just in case you are incorrect. Ensure you return in time so that we may leave from the kitchen at the same time the cook was taken. We want to have every advantage available to us and often time of day has an unknown effect on the spirits we seek."

I had no idea what advantages Louis was speaking of but I figured as long as he himself knew, then I would trust his judgment. I looked over the list and determined that I had none of the items on it, nor did I know where I might acquire such things. Luckily I had an aged friend with the right connections who likely would know where at least some of them could be acquired for the coins we had available to us.

"Louis was not kidding about the difficulties on this list." Tess said as she scanned the paper he had given me. I thought the same thing but I figured she would know better than I in this case.

"The holy water will be easy." She explained. "The College of Theology has young acolytes create this every week as a test of their continuing faith in their chosen profession. They sell it cheaper than any of the local churches since they have no real use for it. I can probably get it for free since I know a few of the people that work over there." She seemed pleased at least to have this connection.

I nodded at this since it was the only must have item on the list. Louis wanted four flasks but I suggested that we get ten since this seemed the most important item and she could get it free.

"Magic, be it weapons, wands, or anything else will be difficult and probably not worth the effort." Tess replied. The College of Magic has such items but they are closely guarded and anyone showing interest in such things find them the interest of people they would prefer to not know." I knew the subtle reference was meant to be the Kargat and agreed that although we were doing nothing questionable, my one encounter with General Athoul made me doubt even that would be safe enough.

That of course eliminated nearly half of the items remaining on the list however. But like I said I did not think any of the other items would be any easier either.

Tess shook her head at one item after another until finally she paused and thought about the last item on the list. "This last one might be possible." Tess said but of course I did not remember what item on the list she was referring to. She put the paper down and went into her room where I could hear her rummaging around. I picked up the paper and looked at what had been written on the last item on the list. It said simply 'Personal item of the ghost.' I wondered if Tess had such a treasure.

"Here you go Rudolph." Tess emerged from her room holding a small silver necklace with a teardrop charm on the end. "When we learned that Sarah had taken her own life I made certain to go to the kitchen and make sure nothing of hers was left behind for any unscrupulous characters to find and sell. The necklace had been the only thing I found. It had been left beside the sink as if Sarah had taken it off to wash her hands before she began cooking and then forgot to put it back on before she left." She handed it to me and told me to open it. I popped the clasp and saw a small drawing of what could only be her child inside.

That made me feel a little better, remembering how the little girl in Staunton Bluffs had recognized her toy from the image burned upon my palm. But this meant I would have to wear it because I wanted to keep my hands free for holding the holy water vials.

"Oh how pretty!" Chanella called from behind me as she stalked silently into the room. "Can I wear it mom?"

"No dear, Rudolph needs to take it and show it to Sarah." She explained disappointing her daughter.

"I can take it mom."

"No!" Both Tess and I said at the same time. This made Chanella frown but did not deter her from pressing on.

"I've helped Rudolph put ghosts to rest before." Chanella argued. "And Ernie will not know any of the others though he is certain to remember me after all the little pies he made for me."

"No!" This time my voice was solo which made me turn to look at Tess who I was surprised to see was actually considering the merits of this idea of hers.

Finally Tess turned to me. "She does have a point Rudolph." The librarian admitted much to her own disappointment. "And I can always count on you to look after her right?"

The burden and responsibility of this statement hit me like a stone right between the eyes and I could only nod. Chanella took this as a victory and came forward to wrap her arm in my own.

"We've done this before Rudolph." She tried to comfort me. "What could possibly go wrong?"

I think only the foolish or the clinically insane should be allowed to say those words for in my experience they seem to be a dare to the very gods to do their worst. But once said they could not be taken back so I settled in and hoped the gods in question who may have been listening would not inflict too much pain on us for saying such.

The first thing that went wrong compared to what we had planned was when Louis showed up at our assigned meeting place outside the circus with the woman he had referred to as Princess upon his arm. I looked at the young woman who was perhaps a year or two older than myself and realized there was something odd about her but I could not put my finger on it. Louis though stopped my question before it was asked and motions for me to bring them through the university gate before we talked any further. I agreed and while the guards looked closely at the girl, I could see they were intrigued by her undeniable beauty rather than whatever I had sensed. Princess played this off with a smile and a pat upon each of the gentlemen's cheeks to thank them for their compliment.

I walked with them to the College of Medicine where Tess and Chanella were waiting for us holding a pouch of flasks that I knew contained the holy water we required. I quickly explained to Louis that of all the items he had requested we had only located these and the charm. He looked to his companion and said that this would be fine.

The five of us waked into the kitchen, closing the door behind us at Louis's insistence and much to the annoyance of the campus security man standing watch who wanted to keep a watch on us, and especially Princess. But he had his orders to allow us to do what we must so although he grumbled he stopped at that point for making any further claims.

I turned to finally ask the questions that had been burning in my mind but Louis's raised hand once more stopped me before I spoke aloud. "Thank you for not saying anything until now. I assure you that our combined safety is better served by this caution."

I did not at first understand until I looked at the girl once more and suddenly realized why she seemed both odd and familiar. "You are Vistani!" I said barely over a whisper but this was enough to cause everyone to freeze and look at me.

"I am half Vistani actually." The girl said with no hint of embarrassment or concern by this revelation.

"She is also the Guide Medium you will need to find your missing cook." Louis added.

"I thought you were the medium." I said

"You will excuse the deception Rudolph." The girl replied. "But I have found it better in places like Darkon that we of Vistani blood do not advertise to just anyone that we have powers beyond that of others. This type of statement tends to make local citizens nervous. Nervous citizens tend to bring the interest of local authorities which is something I prefer to avoid whenever I can." Her comments made sense of course.

"So you do not battle small fire breathing halflings for the entertainment of others?" I asked still coming to grips with this change.

"No, only for my own." She laughed.

I have to admit I did get a good sense of trust from the girl now that I understood where my initial apprehension had come from. But still I did not like the fact there had been deception, even if it was understandable in this case. But as Louis had put it, it was not like we or Ernie had another choice in the matter.

"How many of us may go miss…?" Chanella spoke up breaking our own surprise to the pair of performers.

'Call me Gypsy." The girl said. "It's not my name but I have been called by this moniker for so many years it seems like it should be." She smiled disarmingly. "And the number is as many as you want though I recommend fewer is better since some of the nasty things that live in the Border Ethereal can sense life force and may chose to come and investigate. The more we bring will be like ringing a dinner bell for some of them."

I looked over at Tess and Chanella hoping this new information would deter them from their chosen course of action but I saw no wavering in the young girl's eyes and this was enough to allow Tess to agree to the plan continuing. "Two of us plus the pair of you?" I asked.

"Three then" Gypsy replied. "Louis does not like such journeys do you my love?"

"One such adventure is one more than I cared to have my dear." He replied and she laughed all the harder.

"Our time is running short if you truly wish to do this at the same time as the disappearance occurred two nights ago." Tess added in making us all realize we were stalling instead of getting to down to the very business that brought us here.

"Show me where the disappearance took place." Gypsy stated and we followed Tess first to the kitchen, where there now seemed to me even more bowls of chopped vegetables than yesterday, and then to the pantry where nothing had changed at all that I could see.

Gypsy bent down and looked at the cooking oil at her feet and nodded. "A pentagon." She replied standing up satisfied.

"The famous five pointed star?" I asked not seeing the image.

"No not a pentagram a pentagon." Gypsy replied. "A five sided object. It has all the same gating capability but without the inherent protections. But of course the ghost would not want to protect the cook from her power so this makes sense."

I am glad it made sense to someone because I had no idea what it was she was speaking of. "And since she used oil which does no rapidly dry we can use her own portal for ourselves instead of having to create a new one." I took this to mean it would be faster and less energy on our part which was obviously meant as a good thing.

She went to the keg from which the oil had come and using the first two fingers of her right hand she began to retrace the pattern with fresh vegetable based cooking oil. As each line was completed by her touch it began to glow with a soft luminescence that was unnatural to the oil but seemed to indicate that the magic was still in effect. Also by standing close I could just make out Gypsy whispering words that made no sense to me but still did not seem to be magical in nature.

As the last line was completed the pentagon suddenly filled with obscuring mist as if a thick fog had somehow descended into this on small enclosed section of the pantry. She turned and looked to Chanella and me. "We must be quick for the portal will last at most an hour or two." We both nodded not knowing what we were in for.

"I will go first." She instructed. "When your turn comes close your eyes and step over the line without disturbing the oil. Once you feel me take your hand on the far side you can open your eyes." She waited for the two of us to nod before she stepped up to the edge of the pentagon and with a look back at us over her shoulder stepped over the line and disappeared immediately from our sight.

"That is so cool!" Chanella exclaimed and before I could stop her she followed Gypsy across the line exactly as she had been told to even though I had expected to be the next to go. I turned and nodded to Tess who could not help but have some concern in her eyes. I nodded as i to say I would bring her daughter back and followed Gypsy's directions myself and stepped into the Border Ethereal.

I felt someone take my hand and opened my eyes expecting it to be Gypsy but in truth it was Chanella whose other hand had our guide's clenched firmly. Now knowing that the first step had been taken I took a moment to look at another world.

By her and Louis's description of what to expect I was prepared for a misty type environment of perpetual deep fog that cut our ability to see to a mere few feet. I had thought it would be where shadowy creatures wandered as merely dark images just beyond the range of our sight. And I thought it would have sounds that echoed from all around us so that we could not pinpoint from which direction they had been made.

It was anything but all of that.

Instead the place we emerged within was an exact duplicate of the very kitchen and pantry we had just come from, except the walls, floor, and ceiling were made from seemingly solid fog with just enough give below our steps to feel like one was walking on a sponge or perhaps a pillow. The foods in the storage room here looked, if anything, more delectable even than those that had filled the pantry back on our world, but a curious touch by me demonstrated they too were ghostly in form and substance. Or perhaps I was the one not material since my fingers passed through them.

"You were right about the ghost being a cook." I heard gypsy's voice even though her lips did not appear to move.

"How can you tell?" I asked quite interested seeing both my companions wince as if I had shouted.

"Think quietly when you want to say something Rudolph." Chanella chastised me teasingly.

"A ghost will often make their surroundings match a comfortable place from their life." Gypsy explained. "Since this place is an exact replica of the kitchen we just came from I am fairly certain that the ghost involved is the one you suspected it was. At least it will not be a surprise." She said this without any sense of satisfaction.

"Why aren't you happy?" I asked in a whisper getting a 'good boy' nod from Chanella.

"Because I have never battled a cook before so I am not sure what exactly to expect." Gypsy replied.

The two newcomers showed confusion on our faces but Gypsy merely waved us off. "Keep your holy water ready Rudolph. Offer it as a threat at first to locate your missing chef, but do not hesitate to douse the ghost with it if she seems ready to attack you. I will try to draw and keep her attention while you two perform the rescue."

At our nod of understanding Gypsy opened the pantry door wider and stepped fully into the kitchen with Chanella and me on her heels. A middle aged woman turned at this movement from stirring what appeared to be soup on the stove and cocked her head as if uncertain of our intentions in interrupting her meal preparations.

"You are not supposed to be back here." She said letting go of the wooden spoon that kept stirring all on its own as she turned to face us three directly.

"We have come looking for Ernie the cook." Gypsy said drawing Sarah's attention and motioning us off to the side with a wave of her hand hidden from the ghost's view.

"You cannot have him until he learns his lesson." Sarah replied watching Chanella and I out of the corner of her eye while keeping her head facing the woman speaking to her.

"He does not deserve to be punished by you Sarah." Gypsy said again to the ghost.

"Punished?" She asked. "For lying and telling everyone that the meals he cooked were his own recipe and not mine? Why would you think I would punish him for that?"

"Tell us where is Ernie at Sarah." Gypsy asked as she took two steps closer.

"Stay back." Sarah replied. "I am warning you."

"Where is he?" Her words were forceful and demanding and she strode directly toward the ghost.

"I said stay back!" Sarah grabbed the ladle next to the simmering pot and in a move of practiced ease scooped up some of the boiling liquid and flung it in Gypsy's direction.

Quick as a flash though Gypsy held forth her hands and a towel appeared in between them blocking the splatter of soup and even absorbing it before it fell to the floor. I thought this odd not only for her ability to make a defense out of midair but also why not simply create a shield of some sort rather than a towel? But the oddities were only beginning.

Quick as a flash Sarah tossed three knives, though these were paring blades rather than throwing daggers, and each flew true and deadly toward Gypsy even though I could see in that moment none of them were properly balanced or weighted for such accuracy even by a Vistani knife juggler. Of course denying them did not change the fact that they were still about to impale our guide. Yet quick as a flash Gypsy held her hand out and one of the lids from a stew pot flew unerringly into her hand in time to intercept the missiles as well as any warrior's tower shield could do.

With her other hand Gypsy grabbed one of the flasks of holy water she was carrying, she had four in total on her belt, popped the cork seal and sprayed the water in Sarah's general direction. The ghost too summoned a towel before her but when the holy water hit this barrier or went around it to land on the floor or kitchen counters it began to dissolve whatever image it touched like the strongest acid.

I understood then the nature of combat that Gypsy was forced to engage in and why it was so important for her to understand her opponent ahead of time. Sarah had created a world comfortable to her here in the Border Ethereal and thereby confined her opponents who step into this realm to use only such things as would be normal in this type of environment. Sarah needed to understand she would likely be battling within a kitchen so that she could devise likely offenses and defenses to Sarah's attacks. Had Sarah instead been a blacksmith by trade, the two might be throwing horseshoes and hot coals at one another at this moment.

Chanella's grabbed me by the collar and pulled me behind a counter and out of firing range drawing my attention to a man less than a decade older than me who was bound and gagged with kitchen rags and lying upon the floor a few feet away. Though it seemed to me he should easily slip free of such bonds he was unable to do so by himself, just as Chanella and I were unable to pull them free of him either.

Thinking I understood the rules of existence here I pictured in my thoughts a paring knife with which I could cut free the bonds but while I focused on it in my mind and even spoke my desire aloud, my palm remained empty. I cannot with any certainty say this is because I myself do not have Gypsy's mystic gift and therefore cannot create such things, or if the fault lay in that each time I tried to focus, a clang of some metal object hitting Gypsy's stew pot shield distracted me from making it work.

"What do we do?" Chanella asked pulling against the bindings still to no avail.

I reacted solely on instinct and had I stopped to reflect I doubt I would have chosen this course. I popped the cork on a vial of holy water I carried and poured it directly onto the ties. Only once I began doing so did I fully recall the acid properties of this liquid here in this place and hoped that this effect was constrained solely to elements of the environment and not its living occupants. I was lucky for that indeed proved to be true.

Once free Ernie took no time in standing up and with Chanella pushing him toward the pantry we focused on our escape. "Gypsy we have him." She shouted out trying not to distract our guide and guardian too much in the process. She merely nodded and reached for another vial of holy water looped in place by her belt.

"No do not take this one away from me too!" Sarah cried in true anguish falling to her knees and sobbing into her palms making herself an easy target for our guide. I paused in my flight as did Chanella and Ernie to look at the ghost. Gypsy lifted the open flask and made ready to launch it at the first sign of deception or aggression.

"Sarah you need to move on." I said trying to coax the ghost to understand its time in the living world had passed like some of the treaties about ghosts I had read suggested I should do. I stayed back beyond her immediate reach, but talked softly and empathetically. "Your time here in our world has passed you by."

She raised her tear strewn eyes to look at us. "All I ever wanted was to be recognized for my cooking." She said. "When I was just beginning to achieve this my whole world came apart and no one will ever tell me now that my recipes were good."

"Good?" Ernie called from the pantry door. "Your foods are he best I have ever eaten and I can only make the simplest ones you wrote of. Even with your magical formulas of food before me I will never be the cook you were in life or in death."

"But everyone thinks you made them." Sarah said more out of sorrow than anger.

"That is true." He replied. "I admit I liked the attention, but now knowing that I was hurting someone in the process I will go back and tell the truth and then resign my position. Your recipes deserve a true chef to make them, and I have trouble simply slicing vegetables."

"That is only because no one ever showed you how to do it correctly!" Sarah answered.

"Be that as it may it is still like me taking credit for a statue I did not make just because I happened to have picked up the chisel and mallet when someone walked by. I will not take credit for another artist's work!" His tone seemed full of resolve.

"Well…" Sarah seemed to pause and consider. "What if I teach you to cook?"

"Could you?" Ernie appeared excited then let the emotion leave his face. "No it still would not be right. People would think that I was the artist. You would get no credit for your creations."

"I would if you told them where the recipes came from." She answered. "And in exchange I will teach you to cook and help you prepare your meals. Is that a fair deal?"

Ernie paused to consider this. Gypsys's arm had lowered by this point but still neither her, Chanella, nor I wanted to interfere in these negotiations. Finally Ernie responded to that offer.

"I can not do that Sarah." He said disappointing the ghost. "It would not be fair to you. However, if you would allow me to publish your recipes and give you full credit for their creation then I think we could come to a deal." He offered a smile.

But now it was Sarah's turned to reject this. "Only if you share the authorship with me." She replied. Ernie thought over this for a moment and nodded saying he would take only second billing and credit for compilation. Sarah also made him promise to take any profits as well since she had no family had no use for the money herself.

Minutes later the four of us returned to the real kitchen with Sarah thanking us and promising the College of Medicine cook that starting in the morning she would show him how to properly select and peel vegetables. While the duty sounded dreadfully dull, since it was a task my mother often left for me, Ernie had a bounce to his step as if he now understood his calling and reason for coming to the university. Fate had not made him a magician, but Sarah the ghost might make him a respected cook.

Perhaps the old truism should be modified. Behind every great man is a great woman, ghost, or both!

As a final note with Ernie's return, and especially after the fanciful omelet he made for Master Professor Gunther the next morning my acceptance into the College of Medicine for the coming year was grudgingly approved for I had fulfilled the task set out for me. I could not determine though if on balance Gunther saw this as a negative for my prospective attendance, or instead a positive for the return of his chef? I of course saw it as both since by attending I would get to sample all of Sarah's recipes that she, ad Ernie, believed were worth living for.

Did I question at all whether I was deserving of this honor since it was not my academics or knowledge that had secured my position? No I did not. I had known many others were here solely as an honor to their upper class birth or the money they had lined the proper pockets with to open up this opportunity to them. My service was at least equal to theirs, and easily more so to anyone who got to eat in our college cafeteria.

And in truth I was merely following the destiny set out before me. If I were truly going to become a great healer in this land, I had to enter into this college through some means. My service had merely opened a door, but it still would come down to me to prove myself worthy of remaining here through my diligent studies and one day proving this by graduating. My ghost related activities would not help me with any of these challenges. And little did I know how important my studies would be.

Sometime in late summer of the year after I had returned to my home village of Rivalis, many miles to the east in another Darkon village call Tempe Falls a stranger staggered into town dressed overly warm and mostly covered for that particularly warm day. While this seemed odd, no one said much at first for the stranger stayed away from others, seeking out first the two local temples in town before finally heading to the primary village inn where departing merchant caravans were also staying.

The stranger took a room and his meal upstairs, shying away from others as much as he could. On the way up the steps he passed close to, some say he may actually have brushed against two of the hired guards the caravans employed. Neither thought much of it and nothing more that night was heard of with the stranger.

In the morning the caravans departed, one to the northwest, winding its way toward Il' Aluk, and the second to the northeast for other villages. Neither knew they had a stowaway with them.

In Tempe Falls when the stranger had not been seen by mid day the owner went to his room seeing if he was planning to stay another day or if he would soon be leaving so the chambermaids could change out the room's linen. After three knocks with no reply the innkeeper used his backup key.

The strange lay peacefully upon his bed, no longer clothed in anything more than his small clothes, which based on the humidity of last evening seemed appropriate. However his body appeared painted with red stripes, much like the wild elves might tattoo upon themselves or one subjected to lashing might resemble.

The inn keeper shook the man and feeling his body already hardening realized his guest was no more and called the grave diggers to come and bury him and then is girls to clean the room.

Three days later he and his girls started showing the red lash lines as well. But by then the plague had already started to grow in many other places all across our land. Word was fast, but the plague spread even faster. The Crimson Death was free in Darkon!


	10. Chapter 10

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Fall of Year 688 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 9_**

_My Dearest Ingrid,_

_I know I promised to write every week and here it is the end of my first month of school and I have yet to put pen to parchment for more than just a few words at a time for you. In part I will claim how busy I have been getting used to the new experience of a formal college environment. Heaven knows it is far more structured than how I learned all my precursor subjects. Thankfully my self dedication there will serve me well here._

_Classes are scheduled on a weekly basis by the various professors of which there are a total of twelve on staff, five of whom you know from my description of them on the board of acceptance. These classes have no standard pattern and it is up to the students to ensure that they attend the proper classes necessary to pass the tests given at the end of each month of study. Having just completed my first of these I can say that I expect the next five years to be a challenge, though not an insurmountable one as long as I keep my focus on my studies._

_Please do not take that to mean that I will not be writing as frequently as I had promised you. In fact I look upon this letter as my first of many to fulfill this oath that I made to you to always be your friend and for us to stay in contact no matter where our lives might lead us. _

_And as my first, yet still late, submission let me start by saying a few things that I was unable to voice properly before I departed Rivalis this year. Perhaps now the distance or the ability to gather my thoughts before putting ink to parchment allows me the opportunity to get these issues out in the open. So with that let me dive right in before my determination waivers or it is time for the supper bell._

_Before I forget to close this loop or fail to answer your questions from your last letter, Ernie is indeed still cooking here at the college and in quiet conversations with him I have come to realize that Sarah's ghost is still teaching him her culinary wisdom and skills. I have talked to Tess about this and we have both come to agree that Ernie has fallen in love with Sarah though he would never admit such a thing to himself much less to us. I am torn in this knowledge for I feel somewhat responsible for this and doubt any true good can come from this. Anyone who speaks of lovers coming from two completely different worlds most certainly was speaking of Ernie and Sarah. I only hope the distance between them does not cause them too much pain._

_As I see it perhaps Sarah will wait for him to join her on the other side of this existence and the two will spend the next life, whatever that entails, happily together now that they have found each other. In truth I fear though that he will feel his age one day and come to regret his time wasted chasing a spirit of a perfect woman for him and find that he missed out on his chances in this life to spend with one of flesh and blood who could love him back. If that happens I worry one day yet another ghost may haunt our building as well as grieve for a life passed by._

_But this speaking of death brings me right back around to what I wanted to say to you before I digressed on subjects of potentially doomed love. I want to thank you, no those words are not strong enough, but truly I can think of no others at this time. As you know the death of my father to The Crimson Death was nearly unbearable for me this spring, coming as it did almost to the same day as my mother's death had just a few years ago. Had it not been for you and your mother I do not think I would be able to actually have pulled myself together enough to attend school this year._

_When people spoke to me of their best friend I always in the past thought of Eldrenn Van Dorn, whose former family home you and your mom now occupy. Eldrenn had of course been the one I had shared my adventures of youth with and who when I look back was often standing beside me in my trials, tribulations, and yet also my successes._

_Add to this that Eldrenn was of course a boy like myself, and while I may not understand the logic behind such things, it seems to me that it is an expectation of society that those we name as our best friend as one who shares the same gender as we do. If this serves some higher reason I am unaware of then I accept it, but I have a feeling it is merely a holdover of parents wanting to protect their children so their sons are not seen as too feminine or their daughters too much of the tomboy._

_I tell you this in my long rambling because I realize for the last few years I have been lying to myself as well as those around me when I spoke on this subject. Eldrenn was a good friend, without a doubt, but you Ingrid are truly my best friend._

_I hope that this announcement shocked you. It did me to a point when I realized it but not nearly so much as when you kissed me last year as I headed off to my interview. If my words did so consider this added stress on your heart now sufficient payback for that moment then. Somehow I cannot help but think that word payback, said with affection, will remain a constant part of our joint vocabulary._

_As I said I realize you are my best friend for while Eldrenn stood beside me and shared some of my more entertaining moments, you on the other hand always seem to be seeking the best for me. How many times when I was studying did you make lunch for me and even bring it to my house knowing I would forget to eat completely it if left to my own devices? This is something I cannot picture Eldrenn ever doing and in truth since mud pies were the extent of my memories on his proven cooking skills I am glad your roles were not reversed by fate._

_Even more so you were there for me when my father died. Somehow instinctually you seemed to know when I needed to be alone or when I needed someone to talk to. You even realized those times in between where I needed to feel another's presence but was not of the desire to converse. That is a rare skill you contain and I am very thankful that it was available to me in my time of grief and need._

_I fear writing this lest your mother get the wrong impression but when you would come and find me crying and comfort me by holding me tight and resting my head on your chest as you stroked my hair and I fell asleep are moments in my life I will always treasure. I am gad that at the lowest point of my life there was someone I could show myself and what I was feeling to. I am even more joyful that of all this land this person was you._

_I beg you do not take advantage of me through this moment of insight and compassion. Specifically I will inform you that your mother has orders to notify me immediately if you receive any gentlemen callers whom she does not fully trust the intentions of. I am only a day of travel from you and I still know how to load and shoot that crossbow Ingrid so do not make me come back there for any such foolishness!_

_So with this pleasantry out of the way and off my chest let me now turn to how my first month here at school has gone. If you assumed, as I did, that my days of adventures and ghost hunting are past then I think you need to reevaluate this belief as much as I was forced to._

_This recent event started for me innocently enough when I went to the school library to see Tess and to purchase some of the texts we students were expected to learn in the coming months. Tess said she had put copies aside for me so I would not have to buy them, but in truth I think if I am going to become a successful doctor it is probably wise for me to start a medical library of my own to refer to when I establish my practice. While of course the college would frown on this as a challenge to their authority, by having these books I might also be able to apprentice some dedicated local students as well who cannot afford to attend this school but still make fine practitioners of the medical arts. Can adding more doctors to our world be a bad thing now that we are finally seeing the end of the Crimson Death scourge after nearly a year of it ravaging our country. While I do not fault the clerics who I believed saved both of our lives, along with those of your mother when we learned of my father's infection, we all know that they are a rarer breed even than doctors so it is foolish to hope they will always be available when people need them._

_Anyway as I was saying I had just bought this month's books, at a reduced rate because Tess refused to take any more from me, and was walking back out of the library when a small furry animal darted out of the bushes and charged toward me. The creature was perhaps a foot and a half tall and covered in fur, looking like half a halfling in size and shape except of course most halflings we know tend to be round about the waist and this creature was more sleek and streamlined in proportion to a human._

_I might have thought the creature a wild beast except it was dressed in human looking clothing, at least partially. It wore a red and gold vest on its chest and a round circular hat with a tassel on top of it. Even looking so domesticated the creature did not speak so much as it literally screeched at me as it leapt from the bushes making me drop my sack of books and defend myself from what I took to be its attack._

_This, however, seemed to be the exact reaction it was seeking for instead of attacking me the creature scooted by, grabbing my sack of books in the process and dashed off before I full realized the incident had been the prelude to a robbery not an assault. I shouted in outrage but this only spurred the creature to greater speeds as I began to give active pursuit._

_Considering the size of the creature that could weigh not even twenty pounds compared to the weight of the sack of books and other of my personal items that must be half that weight at least, I was surprised to see I could not gain on the creature as it fled and that my best efforts at speed were only good enough to keep me apace of it. As I have indicated in previous stories of the university, the other students and faculty were quick to offer aide in the sense of numerous screams at seeing the creatures and more than a few good cheers split evenly between me and the creature._

_Thankfully this animal did not take to the trees for I likely would have lost it in the thick canopy of leaves. The creature seemed split by this path as well for it often started to scamper up the trunk of a tree only to reconsider and jump back to the ground. I of course did not complain for it allowed me the potential to keep the beast in my sight and gain slightly at these seeming moments of indecision that it showed._

_While I have stated that my chase of this creature was without local assistance beyond cheers and jeers from the others on the campus, this is not completely true. As we raced past one individual the beast nearly tripped this gentleman who upon noting its obvious theft took up the pursuit of this strange creature as well and he continued to do so even when I passed him in my own chase._

_I will admit I began to feel winded after a while for the pursuit did not seem to be coming to an end any time soon and were it not for the fact that I could be expelled from class if I did not have the necessary courseware I might have given in to the inevitability that I was unlikely to catch up to this creature. It was only by me imagining the smug look on Master Professor Gunther's face as I was facing such discipline measures that allowed me to keep running after the little furry creature._

_The beast turned a corner around one of the buildings, instead of staying out in the open or near the trees like it had seemed to prefer so far and I lost it from sight for the few seconds that it took me to make this turn as well. Already I feared it had perhaps hidden somewhere or turned more corners and I would have to admit defeat, but in truth as I rounded this same spot I found it had stopped before someone and that now my bag of goods was being rummaged by what could only be a Vistani, based upon his dress. He also looked to be a man of about my own age. The strange creature sat on his shoulder looking at me and it appeared at least to be slightly winded as well which gave me a little satisfaction of my own at least._

_Before I could speak I was overcome by a fit of coughing that drew the gypsy as well as his pet's attention fully to me as I tried to recover from this fit by resting my palms on my knees. I was pleased I was not forced to my knees though I was almost bent over double._

"_I believe my friend here is trying to say that the bag in your hands and its contents belongs to him." The voice speaking was somewhat familiar to me though the accent escaped me for the moment. A deadly clicking sound accompanied this statement not all that unlike the one of a crossbow being readied._

_I turned my head to the side and saw my current assistance was being rendered by the second man in the chase. During the pursuit I had not taken the opportunity to look closely at him, but now here with a free second to do so I recognized him as Harmon Ruscheider, one of the other students selected for this year's entry class in the College of Medicine. This made him a classmate of mine._

_To this point I had only acknowledged Harmon's presence when forced to do so such as in a laboratory class where I needed to borrow something from his work table or when he had done something similar. This is not to indicate I had anything against him or he held me in disregard, only that we both were still getting used to these new demands so socializing was a luxury we had little time for._

_So you can get an image of him Ingrid, Harmon is three years older than I am and slightly taller by about three inches or so. While you might think this makes him nearly a giant, knowing as I do that he comes from Lamordia where all those I met seemed much taller on my trip to that land he does not strike me as such._

_In fairness I was still a boy when last I went to that land so seeing others tower over me at that age is hardly a unique experience. I might remind you that you yourself stood half an inch taller than me until this summer when my late growth spurt allowed me to finally surpass you by two inches. You may not understand this but the fact that you were taller than me always seemed disconcerting until this year, like nature was out of balance. Now being able to look just slightly downward into your eyes instead of upward like I did in previous years seems more comforting I suppose to my manly ego. It is one of those silly things I have to contend with I guess now knowing that my best friend is a girl, I am sorry, I should say in honest a young woman._

_To finish my description Harmon is a well dressed young man with polite mannerisms and demeanor who undoubtedly comes from more money than I myself do. Even so he does not carry the swagger of the aristocracy that so many of our Darkon noble born tend to. He has a quick mind as well and constantly seeks to unwrap more and more layers about life than our professors are ready to discuss in our classroom lectures or in some cases can prove they even understand themselves. And he is also constantly in the library when not in class, though he spends much of his time in the medical floor rather than the general knowledge areas whereas I continue to split my efforts between both of course._

_Harmon held an odd metal and wood object in his hand, obviously a weapon of some sort, which he kept trained upon the Vistani man and which had been responsible for the odd clicking sound I had heard a moment earlier. He calls this item a wheel lock pistol and it shoots a projectile of lead with sufficient force to pierce most armor types. I find this intriguing though can not attest to its truth on penetration._

_The Vistani seemed to know what the weapon was for he made no sudden movements but instead slowly turned around to face us both, I was starting to be able to at least stand as my coughing fit had reached it end thankfully. The owner of the thieving beast placed on his face that charming smile all Vistani seem to be able to don as simply as we can a cloak before he spoke._

"_My friends I assure you I meant no crime here today." He said simply. "I merely opened this sack to see if I might ascertain whose possessions my foolish pet monkey must have stolen. I assure you that nothing is missing." He held the bag up as an offering while the 'monkey' which I assume was the name for the type of creature on his shoulder continued to stare or make that more accurately glare at me._

"_Then you will have no objection to standing there very still while my friend Rudolph ensures that all his property is still within the bag?" Harmon replied keeping the weapon focused on his target._

_The gypsy's eyes flashed at this threat but nodded. "If such is your wish to prove my honesty then by all means I shall do so."_

_I strode forward two steps and took the sack from the Vistani who winked at me of all things as I stepped back to open it and rummage through my belongings. In truth I only wanted to ensure my books were still there, which by a quick count I knew they were. Also inside was my lunch of fruit, cheese, and bread, which I now figured may have been the actual reason the monkey had stolen my bag, and two of the vials of holy water I still had remaining from last year's adventure with the guide medium._

_I do not know what possessed me to carry these things today, and in truth I had not remembered even packing them. The five I had from last year, my remaining three after using one to free Ernie the cook, along with the two Chanella had given me back saying she had no use for them and could always get her hands on more here at the college if she did, I had unpacked and placed on a shelf in my room. I did remember thinking at the time perhaps I should keep one with me at all times like Gypsy had suggested since they were a potent weapon to have in my line of work. Obviously I had taken her warning to heart and packed two without thinking more about it._

_Harmon's gaze had never waivered as I had done this quick inventory and seeing how tense this situation still was I decided to get us all to relax a bit. I pulled an apple from the sack. "It is okay Harmon there is nothing missing." I said seeing both he and the Vistani loosen up slowly at this news. I tossed the apple to the gypsy who caught it without a thought but with a queer look in his eye._

"_I think this is what your monkey was after." I said smiling_

_He looked at the apple and then laughed. "Ah yes, that must be it." He nodded._

"_He still stole your good Rudolph." Harmon said. "Is it not normal that we should turn him in to the authorities?"_

_The Vistani seemed to pale at this idea and I could see he was planning a possible path of flight were I to agree. Other than a long and tiring run no real harm had been done to me to warrant such action so I did not see a valid cause for a crime committed by an animal anyway. Furthermore knowing the interest some parties here locally have in the comings and goings of the Vistani, and not wanting to be associated directly I decided overlooking this singular issue was the far wiser course of action._

"_That will not be necessary Harmon." I said. "It was merely a misunderstanding and a chance meeting."_

"_As you state good sir." The Vistani said agreeable to not make the situation any worse._

"_Besides Harmon we have just enough time to get to our anatomy class." I reminded him. "Professor Gunther is not one who likes to hear stories and excuses, trust me on this."_

"_It will be as you say then Rudolph." He put his weapon away and I bid the Vistani to depart with a gentle flick of my hand._

"_May you always be recognized for your generosity and wisdom Rudolph Van Richten." The gypsy spoke his thanks before walking off. He was gone from my sight before I realized he knew my entire name which I was certain I or Harmon had never spoken._

_Harmon and I talked good naturedly as we walked back to our next class. I learned he was from the city of Ludendorf in Lamordia, a town slightly bigger than our home village of Rivalis. We chatted and warmed up to one another over those extended moments as we walked to class and decided then that it was foolish for us to study alone when we could become partners and help each other study._

_I hope Ingrid you do not think he can in any way replace you for while he has a brilliant mind for medical theory and sees possibilities far beyond any that I can come up with in our discussions, he does not share that spark you have for enjoying life as it is. Were I to hand him a flower like I did to you before we left he would never see its beauty as you did but instead seek to dissect it and understand its functions on the basest of levels. It makes me wonder if he chose this career in medicine to help others or instead to ferret out the secrets known only to the gods themselves?_

_I hope I did not sour you on him for as I reread this I can see where I might. Please understand that I sense he is a good man. Like myself he has been there every week like all the students helping to treat victims of The Crimson Death without so much as a single complaint that this work is beneath him like so many others of my class have whispered. I only fear that his quest and hunger for knowledge may become too much for his mere mortal body to contain one day._

_We arrived at class to which I was greeted by Master Professor Gunther's haughty and disapproving stare which had by now become a fairly regular occurrence for me so I took no further offense at it. This look turned to one of slight surprise as Harmon came in upon my heels finishing out a discussion we had obviously been having for some time on our way here. Thankfully we were not the last to arrive so we did not face the veiled barbs he sent to the recipient of that particular honor._

_Being the first day of this class Professor Gunter explained that our purpose for this semester was to dissect the human body cadaver we would be provided in the medical laboratory following a detailed long series of steps that would take us the next two months of class time at least. Before you worry of what is to follow I will assure you that I will not go into any disturbing details on this subject for I understand how gentle your sensibilities and demeanor for such things are._

_I will say thankfully that the college maintains a means of keeping these bodies preserved during these warm months for I fear no one would ever actually finish the task steps they were assigned if it were otherwise. The potential smell alone would see to that._

_For the next two months Professor Gunter also explained that our class of twelve would have to work in pairs, one performing a step described in the checklist while the other recording their observations. These tasks would rotate between the pair every class so that each literally got their hands dirty so to speak._

_The professor further explained that he himself had determined who the partners would be though what basis he used he did not care to explain. As I said for the most part I was disappointed with the attitudes I had so far seen displayed by the majority of my classmates who were almost to a man (which includes the women) snobbish members of the noble class._

_I knew they looked down upon me as a mere village peasant who did not understand and agree to the station in life he had been born into. I will spare you the colorful vernacular that accompanied such statement. I had resigned myself to doing what was required, which likely meant nearly all the work, with my noble partner when Professor Gunther announced that I would be teamed up with Harmon._

_Before you smile in joy understand that I realize fully Master Gunther had simply hoped to put all his troublesome eggs in one basket and thereby keep a closer watch on us rather than having to divide his attentions. Our little shared encounter with the monkey had thrown an unforeseen wrench into this plan for him but it was too late to change._

_I am happy to note that Harmon seemed as pleased by this choice as I myself was, even after recognizing instead of doing all the work I would now likely have to pull back on his reins in order to just do my fair share. But on the opposite side of that particular coin I certainly would not need to worry that we would fall behind in our activities and thereby be unprepared for the surprise tests that Professor Gunther was famous for administering. If anything the rest of the class would have to keep up with us._

_Partners assigned Gunther went into a long explanation about the first phase of our activities to be performed upon our cadavers. The Master Professor was quite vocal in his description of what we would be accomplishing, far more so than I had ever heard him speak, and I saw immediately his reason for this was to challenge each and every one of us to the level of our dedication to our studies._

_I will say as his discussion went along I felt a slight queasiness from his descriptions but many of the others were turning white and one young man even passed out and had to be revived by his female partner. All the while Professor Gunther continued his ever repetitive tirades about the lower quality of students seeking to become doctors these days. The only one unaffected by this talk was Harmon who actually had the audacity to ask some rather pointed questions that caused the Master Professor to stumble in his own thoughts for a moment. Harmon confided in me later that this had actually been his intent behind asking these questions._

_Given the time for our fainting victim to recover his wits, Doctor Gunther led our class down into the sublevels of the college to the rather chilly room where we were introduced to our cadavers for the first time. This was enough for one student to threaten to quit and the fainter to catch a few more winks on the cold stone floor beside his assigned table._

"_Come on Rudolph let's not give the old man the satisfaction." Harmon said picking up a sharpened scalpel and indicating that I should read the procedures we were to follow and make the appropriate notations on the drawings we had been provided._

_I nodded back, put down my book bag and picked up my own papers and stylus for my portion of the remainder of the day's expected events. Perhaps it was this example we set, or perhaps it was Professor Gunther's scowl but soon the rest of the class was similarly armed and prepared, awaiting only the command of our instructor to begin the tasks laid out before us. The Master Professor looked away from our tables as he strode to the private, and heated, small office next to this room and without looking back he simply called over his shoulders to us. "Student you may begin. I will check up on your progress in a half an hour and expect to see significant progression." With that he pulled the door closed behind him and slid the bolt closed with a rather dramatic click as if to say we were not to disturb him for the next thirty minutes and now were truly reliant solely upon ourselves._

_While the students had shown their preparation and courage in front of Professor Gunther now faced with his absence none seemed quite so willing to be the first to begin this particular exercise. The exception to this was of course Harmon, though out of a devilish streak I think he purposely delayed his own first step to see if anyone else would take up this challenge. When he saw all eyes were focused upon him he was satisfied and placed his single edged scalpel at the central base of the neck just above where the collar bones come together. With a smile of complete enjoyment he poked the sharpened blade into the dead flesh and drew a line perhaps an inch in length._

_Suddenly to our surprise our cadaver took issue with this activity. Let me state there was no doubt the body before us was indeed deceased so we had not accidentally injured a sleeping cleaning man or something equally regrettable. But as you know here in our land being dead does not always mean being at rest._

_The zombie's, for that is what I assumed it was, arms leapt out from the table, one catching me unaware due to my reading and striking me fully in the chest, sending my body tumbling over another thankfully unoccupied table to land in a heap on the floor beyond that one. The creature's other arm caught Harmon only a glancing blow since his eyes had been focused on the body and was able to acknowledge its movement and at least attempt to react defensively in time. He was pushed around and up against another table as well but managed to keep his footing._

_At this point the creature sat up on the table, its red eyes glowing in evil light and began to scan around the room. The other half score of our fellow students began to scream for help and in horror, with the notable exception of our fainter who passed out on top of his female cadaver in a rather unsightly showing._

_By this time I was shaking myself back into full consciousness, ignoring the pain of both the blow and my awkward fall as I tried to find my feet and rise back up. I grabbed another pair of scalpels from the tray but their two inch blades looked foolishly inadequate for the creature that had now found its own feet and stood with only a bare table separating the two of us._

_Due to our positioning the zombie stood between the rest of the class and the doorway that led to the stairs. The option for me to run was available, but that would leave Harmon and the rest of my class to face the creature and I am certain my conscience would not allow for that type of action. Instead I thought to stay and offer what assistance I might no matter how little that was even if only to distract._

_The other students, with the exception of Harmon and of course the fainter, had instead ran for the office door where Professor Gunther had gone, but in their haste and panic as they beat on the door calling for his aid or safety none seemed to recall the door to this particular room opened outward. As they begged, pleaded, cajoled, and even offered bribes to be let in, they were in fact blocking their own rescue by gathering and pushing upon the door those behind pinning those in front in their panic._

_The creature reached for me and I sliced its open hands with the scalpel in my grip. Unfortunately as I feared the blade was a poor substitute for a real weapon in that its small size turned in my grip as it encountered flesh and was nearly pulled from my hand because of its slick handle. In exchange the blade did almost no damage other than parting flesh that oozed dark thick black blood nearly severing the pinky of the left hand which did nothing at all to actually phase the creature._

"_Rudolph move to your left!" Harmon called out and without thinking I took two steps quickly in that direction but saw that the zombie was intending to follow me. However this sidestep on my part opened up Harmon to a clear line of fire with his wheel lock pistol which he now pulled the trigger on while aiming at the center of the zombie's back._

_A loud retort, made louder still by the enclosed confines of this room, announced the shot to the rest of us just as the pistol's kick told him it had fired. Its one inch or so diameter ball of lead sped free from the barrel too fast for anyone to see, especially since the weapon also emitted a blinding flash and a short burst of flame as well._

_The ball struck right between the shoulder blades a little left of center for Harmon was aiming for the creature's heart. His aim was nearly perfect, seeing as the creature's attention had been focused on me so it made no move to defend itself. The ball travelled through dead flesh, tore a hole through the zombie's heart and burst forth from its chest in a splatter of gore than made me glad that I was still moving further away._

_Unfortunately the full extent of the shot did only slightly more damage in total than my scalpel had since the undead do not require their hearts. The true worth of the shot had been to stagger the creature and force it to lose its balance and fall on its face as I came around the table. It even had slightly scorched its skin around where the projectile had entered the body but that too did not look at all debilitating. The surprised look on Harmon's face told me he had not only expected his weapon to do more but that he also was now realizing the stories he had heard about this land of Darkon were not just ones told to scare unwary travelers._

_Fire I knew was a good choice for a zombie but as I looked around the room I cursed our luck and the college's efficiency. Instead of open flame sources such as torches and lamps the school had installed glowing crystals produced by students of the College of Magic or perhaps the College of Theology. This made sense since the chemicals used in anatomy class had occasionally bad results if exposed to flames. By taking this action though this thoughtfulness by the college was denying me the most useful common weapon at my disposal._

_I looked to Harmon who was reloading his weapon, or at least trying to and realized quickly that this was going to be minimal help to us at best. Instead I slid over the very table the zombie had been laying upon, spun around and landed on my feet at the distant short end. Then taking this side of the table in my hands I aimed the other short end of it at the creature as it stood up and pushed forward slamming the edge into its body and folding its torso back on top of the table._

_My intent was to pin the creature against the wall and hopefully allow for us all to escape but in the process I tripped over my bag of books I had put down and had to release the table to catch myself as I fell._

"_Harmon!"_

_He turned to look at me and immediately realized my plan and before the creature could escape around the edge of the table once more he helped me as well lending his strength to mine as we pushed the creature back. As we strained against the creature's strength I realized this was a temporary measure at best and called for the others to flee. True to form of a panic situation none actually did, instead they continued to beat upon the other door and shriek for help that could not come._

"_What about the chemicals in the room?" Harmon asked looking around at the various jars and such filled with liquids. "Can any of them melt this creature?"_

"_No." I said but then had a thought. "But if you can hold it here for a few moments by yourself…" I did not actually look to see if he accepted this idea but instead leapt away from the table listening to him grunt as he battled strength to strength now alone against this zombie._

_I ripped open my pack and pulled free the two vials of holy water, which thankfully I had not broken when I tripped over the bag. With my hands full I pulled the sealing cork on each loose with my teeth and as Harmon continued to struggle I began to splash the contents of the water on the creature's body, hoping it would affect the corporeal undead as well as I had see it do to the incorporeal._

_Thankfully with each splash of water the flesh of the creature began to smoke like it was afire. While it thrashed in obvious pain by the time the second vial was nearly empty it had given up all struggles and was no longer moving. Hoping this was not some elaborate ploy on its part I came within range of its arms long enough to pour the last through the hole in its back made by Harmon and onto its heart. The creature's final shudders ended immediately and it lay still in death as it should._

_Once we were sure it was dead Harmon clasped me on the shoulder and laughed as we turned to the still panicked and distraught members of our class, at least those who had not fainted, who were now staring with gaping mouths at the two of us. Only then could I hear Professor Gunther on the other side of the door ordering everyone there to step back away so he could finally get the portal open._

_He emerged with a peculiar look upon his face seeing so many students in near shock and the two he least enjoyed in this class smiling over our victory. He tried to restore some semblance of order and was successful only to a point. He failed when one student declared that he was dropping out of the school and that his family would not longer be paying. This was matched a moment later when the fainter woke up and declared he no longer was interested in becoming a doctor either._

_In this moment I gained complete respect for my lab partner. Not only had he helped me defeat a zombie but then to further intimidate the other students who had been snidely looking down upon us he motioned for me to walk over to another body still lying on the table. "Professor Gunther I assume this one is now free since the students have dropped out?" His words were rhetorical and for entertainment purposes._

"_Rudolph if you are ready to begin again." He said to me as he picked up his scalpel and I my book and quill._

"_Any time you are Harmon." I replied._

_Then without anyone being ready Harmon drove the knife deep into the corpse's chest and stepped back. When it did not move he turned once more to me. "Well Rudolph step one is complete, this cadaver is actually dead." He laughed aloud causing the fainter to lose consciousness one more time in response._

_So Ingrid this is how I spent the most entertaining period here during my first month of college. Harmon and I have become study partners beyond just our lab work and often take our meals together as well. I have introduced him to Tess and Chanella as well as telling him some of the more interesting stories from my past._

_What I find humorous is that while Harmon helped me destroy a zombie, he looks at me skeptically when I speak of ghostly dead, even going so far as to challenge me to accompany him this summer back to Lamordia to show him the fisherman ghost I had met within his own country. I wonder what he would think of Sarah the cook were I to break my word to Ernie and tell people about the help she provides him._

_Oh one other strange event now that I am reminded of it. When I returned to my room after the battle with the zombie I found all five of my flasks of holy water still full and sitting on the very shelf where I had recalled putting them. This has almost left me questioning my sanity._

_The only two explanations that I can come up to for this are either Gypsy gave two of her flasks back to me after last year's adventure and I have completely forgotten this or the Vistani man who had been looking into my book sack placed added them himself._

_The second seems to me to be the most disturbing for it seems to indicate that the whole encounter with the monkey was a planned event on his part in order to ensure I had these items when the zombie attacked. This speaks to their ability to see the future at a minimum which I am certain that College of Theology would take issue with. And even were it so why then not simply warn me of the zombie's presence instead of going through some elaborate scheme to arm me and take the chance I might inadvertently break these vials, which I almost did, or even forget about them, which I also almost did. No this answer makes no sense._

_But the alternative that I actually had seven vials instead of five makes me wonder if perhaps I am not as focused in details of my life as I thought I was. These types of mistakes could be ruinous to my patients if I forget simple details such as their medicines. In this way I almost have to hope that the Vistani option is the correct one._

_You have such a wonderful ability to see through such confusion to the very heart of such matters so perhaps you can tell me where I have gone wrong in my deductions._

_With that it is time to close for now as I have promised to meet Harmon, Tess, and Chanella for dinner. It is supposedly something wonderful that Sarah has been teaching Ernie to cook all week and I dare not miss it or face the wrath of my friends._

_I hope this note finds you as carefree and happy as I always remember you being when I think of our time together just a few short weeks ago. Do not forget my warning about the crossbow and feel free to inform any dates who are less than genteel with you that such a threat does indeed lie above their heads. I hope you have time to write me as well and send it back with Tess's merchant friend in his bi-weekly deliveries._

_I miss you my friend, being there just sitting beside you and enjoying your presence. It is I realize now the only times in my life I have ever felt whole. May this thought bring you a smile._

_Your Eternal Friend_

_Rudolph_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Winter of Year 689 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 10_**

The second year of schooling at the College of Medicine is dedicated around the principal of treating simple ailments likely to be seen by any local medical professional. These include such things as setting broken bones, birthing, and common remedies for ailments such as fevers, colds, and seasonal diseases like influenza.

I think what surprised me most about this coursework is how much of each remedy came down to simply ensuring the patient was kept clean and told to rest as much as possible until they are once again healthy. I am certain my aunt would be disappointed to learn that there were no common tonics that were an instant cure to any of these conditions outside the realms of healing draughts that required divine prayers of a cleric along with some rather exotic alchemic formulas to produce.

To be sure there were some common easy remedies like boiling aspen bark to create a powder that would reduce a fever or sucking upon honeycomb to aid a cough but these tried and true formulas were known by all so not spoken of much in class as they were part of the expected baseline of a student's knowledge. Healing draughts as well were only occasionally mentioned as a cure of last resort since their cost was prohibitive to most people and we were not actually there to promote the College of Theology which was seen in some ways as a rival to our own efforts.

To reinforce this learning the school established a free clinic for the population of Il' Aluk on every Friday where we students of the second year were schooled in helping local citizens by other students in their fourth year of medical studies. This delegation of authority to upperclassmen was designed to leave the faculty with more time for their own efforts but still allowed it to be promoted and advertised as a community service the university could point to when seeking additional funding from nobles and alumni, which were often one in the same group.

Our class continued to be assigned tasks in pairs and since Harmon and I were still seen as outsiders and beneath them, it was funny how quickly the remainder of our classmates 'forgot' we had saved their lives with the zombie, we were still paired together for everything. This of course was fine with the two of us as well for we had determined and agreed that if either of us ever got sick we would travel the additional distance to aid each other rather than put too much trust in the skills of our other classmates based on their demonstrated lackadaisical approach to learning.

Oddly enough I found myself encouraging or carrying Harmon through many of these classes as well this year. This was not because he had any real problem understanding the material but rather just the opposite. This year's practical application was rather basic and unexciting to him so his mind easily wandered away during the discussions.

He was not lazy in his studies, but rather his mind was always seeking out a better way to do things that he often missed out on how to apply the current treatment correctly. For example during one lesson where we were learning proper procedures for treating broken bones by realigning the break, a painful experience for the patient, and then tying it securely in place by using linen bandages and one or two splints of wood, Harmon was working in his mind on improving the process. The biggest complaint with the current process was that the patient usually had to come back to the doctor multiple times per week to have the splint reset because it had been accidentally jarred out of place usually during the hours the individual was asleep.

This unacceptable repetitive condition screamed of a need that sent Harmon off on two days of research after class work was completed to talk to local merchants and laborers for other potential solutions to this problem. He of course did not say he was looking for a new way to set bones, since everyone would have told him to use a splint, but instead said he needed a temporary means to hold two objects together for a month or so to they would not move, but still the binding had to be easy to remove if the objects had to be separated during that time.

At first almost everyone directed him either to rosins for their adhesive property or stitching when he talked to tailors. Thankfully after only a few minutes he dismissed carpenters completely when they suggested nails not driven all the way into the material in question.

Of course the rosins failed the easy to remove test, and were extremely painful to remove if the patient happened to have any significant quantity of body hair in the injured area. The second suggestion of stitching involved a rather large needle which might be ok when the bone poked through the skin or other such examples of opened flesh that required a means to close the wound but this was heavily frowned upon for breaks beneath the skin and were usually accompanied by words such as 'no way in Baator will you stick me with that thing!'

At the end of the second day though Harmon returned to our dorms carrying a large sack and a roll of linen bandages and asked me to come assist him. He had brought a broken tree limb as well to simulate the patient's bones since his 'no way in Baator' patients had been quick to warn others away from the foreign medical student.

Without explaining anything more, Harmon dumped the sack of powder into a bucket of water and using another stick mixed this concoction thoroughly. Once it reached a certain lumpy consistency he had been trying to achieve Harmon began to soak linen bandages in this mixture, ensuring they absorbed some of the liquid before wrapping them firmly around the broken limb, starting with the break and working outward in each direction. By the end he had created a cocoon of sorts around the break that held the two pieces of branch together unless they were severely jarred.

He told me to wait and hour to truly test the results and in the interim we discussed other aspects of our weekly lessons while he kept occasionally checking on his 'patient' who sat by the fire slowly drying. At the end of the required hour Harmon called me to inspect his handiwork and I had to admit the two pieces of wood could only be moved with a very heavy application of force, far more so that what would happen simply by inadvertently jarring a splint while the patient slept.

"So what did you use?" I asked now intrigued by this obviously successful test.

"Plaster." He smiled at me.

"Plaster?" I asked. "As in what masons and others use to seal stone walls?"

"Exactly the same."

"Ok, but what happens if the bone had poked through the skin?" I asked even though this was a much rarer occurrence. "You can't let plaster and water pollute the wound."

"True." He replied thinking this over. "But you could either place a patch of dry bandages over the wound to absorb the water to keep it from seeping through or put a bandage over the wound covered by oilcloth to block liquid from getting in." He answered.

While these methods would require testing I had to admit they did have serious potential. Furthermore I thought patients would be intrigued by not having to return as often since the inadvertent jarring often added severe levels of pain as well.

"But how easy is it to remove?" I asked.

He turned the sticks so that the driest part of the cast he had made was lying exposed, explaining of course after a few hours the whole thing would likely be this dry. The using a single edged hook shaped blade he inserted the tip under the edge of the cast and slowly cut through the plaster linen in relatively short order without doing any damage to the sticks underneath beyond the few grooves made by leverage. This of course would not happen with softer flesh over the top of bone so was not a concern. In the end while the process was not nearly as quick as unwrapping a bandage splint it certainly was far more efficient in all other aspects.

The next day was Friday and while it was not Harmon's and my week to work the clinic we offered the pair that had been assigned to do so that we would in their place. They did not look a gift horse offer in the mouth and agreed, not seeing the downside to this since Friday was the traditional night that our classmates met at the tavern on campus to celebrate. Harmon and I joked the celebration should be that they had not killed any patients this week, but we id not pass that along.

We arrived early the next morning and reported for our duty. The only complication to testing out this plan was what to tell our senior classmate if the opportunity to demonstrate it came about. Harmon had brought along with him another bag of plaster that he left out of sight of our fourth year student instructor for that day so not having to explain before being able to demonstrate.

Our senior student's name was Amy and I doubt she would even have noticed if we had left the bag lying on the floor and underfoot for she was obviously distracted with some issue of her own for she barely spoke to us except to say if we needed her assistance with a patient we were to ask her otherwise she would leave us to our own devices. What went unsaid is that we were expected to provide her with the very same courtesy and keep our conversations low to not disturb her thoughts.

While broken bones were a fairly common clinic issue we went the whole morning without a single one appearing making Harmon concerned that he would not get a chance to field test his theory. Thankfully just after noon a mother brought her two children into the clinic, the older daughter Ann who had no injuries and was smiling in satisfaction and her younger brother Henry who had broken his arm punching his older sister.

While I calmed the boy's tears and explained to him that this is another reason why hitting girls was not socially tolerated, even if the girl in question is an annoying older sister, something he and I could agree on, Harmon mixed up a small batch of plaster.

The mother was used to broken bones it seemed because she looked upon his actions oddly at first and eventually was even forced to ask if we were planning to splint the arm like she was accustomed to.

Harmon, who can be quite charming with his foreign accent, smiled at the mother and explained her son was going to get a better treatment that would not require any return trips for a full month until the bones were completely healed. He then gently aligned the break by feel with his fingertips, which thankfully was still mostly in place anyway, and began to loosely wrap the broken arm with his linen plaster bandages. He wrapped the entire forearm from wrist to elbow in multiple layers and then had the boy sit near the fireplace as the plaster cast dried for the next hour.

In that time we had treated a few more patients, though Harmon kept coming back to check on the boy, testing his fingers to ensure that the cast was not becoming a tourniquet and cutting off blood supplies to the boy's hand. Satisfied it did not and that after and hour it was dry enough to trust, Harmon sent the family home telling the boy he needed to keep the cast dry but otherwise should still be able to perform most other activities. The mother and especially his sister thanked us for this because this still allowed him to do some of his chores instead of the two of tem having to do them all now instead. Splint recipients on the other hand almost always had to stay clear of any activity that might jar the splint.

In the sake of honest reporting this test case ended with mixed results. The cast itself did everything Harmon had expected it to even healing the bone nearly a week faster than average for a splint since the break could not move. It also was removed without too much of an issue or causing any pain to the patient as Harmon had stated it would so in that way too it was a success though in this case Harmon and I had been required to its removal as we had not shared our test with anyone else.

Harmon's cast failed though in that by the end of the day the plaster had hardened and in effect given young Henry his own attached and portable club with which he had the means to exact his revenge upon his older sister which he did, repeatedly. Thankfully the family arrived in time before the clinic was closed and we were able to bandage Ann's bruises and provide her a few doses of aspen bark tea for her headaches. We would have offered up another prescription of 'being kind to your siblings' speech but Harmon and I realized that treatment would be ignored by the pair so we did not waste our breath on the effort. Instead we merely wished the over stressed mother our heartfelt best wishes for her plight. I do also recall that her husband was treated for odd bruising the following week.

I am happy to note that with this success Harmon's plaster cast method for broken bones was adapted by the college and began to be taught to all current students in their second year or higher level and became part of the regular curriculum from this year forward as well. The pair of us received high praise from the entire medical faculty for our ingenuity, with the notable exception of a certain Master Professor who chose to say nothing of the event at all. I of course deferred the praise to me onto the true source of this discovery happy to see Harmon bask in his well-deserved fame. I could also see that this had hooked him as well. Even as the applause still echoed his mind was working on still more improvements to the medical profession. I was simply content to know he would continue to do so for I knew in my heart every such invention would be of a benefit to my patients as well.

Just under a month later when the first snows had settled on the ground making the city streets slushy and wet to walk on, Chanella came to my dorm room saying that Tess needed to speak to me as soon as possible. Harmon had been in my room studying and not only suggested I go at once but also that he too would accompany the two of us as well.

Knowing Tess would not interrupt me for anything less than an emergency sent me rushing across campus with my pair of companions hurrying just to keep up. Like most afternoons in the winter months the library was fairly busy since it provided a warm common area to study. College can be a lonely place for many students so a place to study where others are also at provides comfort to many even if they do not speak.

Of course most students were on the levels dedicated to their specific college but Tess's general floor had at least half a dozen students either seeking out books or already deeply into reading ones they had found while sitting in overstuffed and comfortable chairs near the fireplaces that warmed the whole room.

I noted immediately that Tess was speaking to the fourth year student Amy when I entered and she made a motion toward me drawing the girl's attention to our group's arrival. Obviously Amy was a significant party to whatever emergency had sent Chanella scurrying to come find me on this cold day.

"Amy this is the young man I was speaking of." Tess explained with a smile.

"You?" Her face showed confusion. She obviously recalled my face but could not place me. Then Harmon and Chanella came up behind me and I could see recognition dawning upon her face.

"Yes we were the two you were overseeing in the clinic a month ago." I explained putting the last few pieces of vague memories together in her mind for her.

"Oh yes I recall now." She said then turned once more to Tess. "I thought you said you knew someone with experience in hauntings."

To this point I had successfully avoided being generally known for this aspect of my personal history except by those I had taken into my confidences, such as Harmon, or those who had been part of these events, such as Tess and Chanella. Now though with Amy's simple declaration I suddenly faced further ostracizing by the student body for having a rater odd hobby. In truth it was not like I was being invited to parties or anything at the moment anyway, but I was happy not to have people speaking of my ghostly exploits behind their hands as I walked by. It was rude and not something I wanted to actually deal with especially on the heels of last year's zombie incident which was the talk of the College of Medicine for two weeks.

"My dear I doubt you would find a more experienced person to assist you if you combed the entire city." Tess bragged.

"Well still I am not sure." She was obviously torn by needing help and seeing it offered by an underclassman.

"Why don't you tell me about your situation?" I asked seeing her tense at the suggestion. "I promise you that your knowledge about me having such experience is a guarantee enough against anything I might dare say about your own problems." I laughed but saw that I was very close to the mark about her real concerns.

Finally she nodded. "Okay but I have to ask you to please keep this story only between us." She explained. "I am not noble born and do not need any of those rich and spoiled kids giving me any further grief over my parentage." I nodded at once surprised to hear that I was not the first person from less than the upper crust of society to be admitted. With my promise and Harmon's secured she quietly delved into her story so that any other ears on this floor would not casually overhear her.

"My father was a grain importer here in Il' Aluk and a fairly successful one by all honest accounts." She started making me look sidelong at Tess wondering how long she knew how similar our lives were. Thankfully Amy did not notice this look or Tess's response that we would speak on this particular issue at another time.

"He had all the best contacts here in Darkon and other lands as well and made sure almost singlehandedly that this city never ran short of food. He also kept his prices reasonable much to the annoyance of his competition who often tried to get him to raise them in order to milk greater profits from the local population." I understood this competitive business practice as my own father faced such situations at times also.

"Eventually these persuasive measures by his competition threatened to turn physical and caused my father to hire a personal bodyguard, Lars, who he explained to everyone outside the family, was actually his new apprentice and who would one day be taking over the business to run." Such things were not unheard of, but usually only in families that did not have children. This became clear with the next statement. "Since I am an only child and had made my intentions known that I wanted to be a doctor the story was a believable one to all who knew us. My father saw this as a far more acceptable profession as well than me becoming a merchant like him."

"Lars helped my father with his business as any apprentice was expected to and also discouraged accidents and incidents planned or paid for by our rivals from impacting our family's operations." She did not explain what she meant by 'discouraged' but it did not take a lot of imagination on my part to suspect what this meant.

"A few months later however one of the cattle farms where my father supplied grain had a catastrophe." I noted she seemed cautious on the words she was picking. "In two days the entire herd at that farm, over two hundred cows, all died in their fields and had to be burned immediately on the chance that a contagious disease had been the cause. But since the deaths had been so sudden and the animals appeared otherwise healthy it was suspected by the farmer that the creatures had been poisoned."

"A local cleric was hired to come out and inspect the animals and he confirmed not only that the cattle feed had indeed contained a poison, but that the type is question was known as Black Lotus." At this name Harmon sucked in his breath at obvious recognition. Thankfully Amy did not seem to notice this and continued on with her story until I interrupted.

"Black Lotus?" I asked since she seemed to think I should know what she was speaking of.

"Oh I'm sorry I forgot you are a second year student." She apologized without actually talking down to us, which was a rare occurrence for me at this university. "Black Lotus is a rare flower that when dried and crushed into powder can invoke what some people believe are holy visions. Most think it merely causes people to hallucinate. However in higher doses this drug almost always causes death. In fact even prolonged use of small doses tends to build up in the body and kill just as well." She paused making sure I understood this. "That is why Black Lotus is illegal to possess, sell, buy, or transport within the borders of Darkon."

"My father was tried in open court for doing all four of those crimes and while he proclaimed his innocence the prosecuting lawyer called forth numerous witnesses whose testimony proclaimed the guilt of my father." Amy explained. "Four of those who testified were rivals and business competitors, and one other had once been a suitor of my mother's who she had spurned instead for my father. But all of these men said that my father had offered to sell them Black Lotus and they had refused him."

"Of course my father's lawyer demanded a priest test the truthfulness of the witnesses but while I did not care to believe it, the priest confirmed all of these men spoke the truth."

Amy let this sink in before finishing. "Worst of all Lars was forced to testify as well and while he refused to speak against his employer he was forced under oath to admit that he had seen what could have been Black Lotus powder in my father's study. Deputized agents were sent to our house and they found the hidden stash of powder with only a short search."

"My father was convicted and immediately executed. Normally the crown could confiscate all we owned though in this case the judge did allow our family to maintain its wealth and business provided we repaid the farmer full market price for his lost cattle." Amy finished. "Lars, saying he was sorry for what he had been forced to say agreed to this himself, since the business of my father was now his as stated in my father's will. Lars also promised to pay for my college as well in order to see through what my father had hoped for. Not a week goes by that Lars and I do not have dinner together and still he apologizes for his required testimony."

The room got silent and I waited for some further clue as to how this involved ghosts or what role I was expected to play in this. Eventually Amy spoke once more though it was obvious that as uncomfortable as her history had been the subjects to come were even more awkward. A comforting nod from Tess was the strength she required to go on with her story.

"A year after his death my father's spirit returned to speak to me." She looked at each of us with a challenge in her eyes expecting perhaps to see doubts or ridicule, but instead she saw compassion and acceptance. Even Harmon, who doubted spirits actually existed outside my stories, was not ready to tell Amy that he did not believe her and would instead wait to hear the whole of her tale first.

"At first I thought his appearance was part of some dream I had at night for of course my father's ghost left no evidence of his visit except in my memory." She continued. "And in the beginning all he would simply was say that he was innocent and that it was important to him that I understand this. At first I argued with him, asking him why he would sell Black Lotus and still not even be honest with me after his death. But even facing the wrath and tears of his daughter he still he proclaimed his complete innocence in these events and that I understand this and that I come to understand what it was he felt that he had to do to correct this injustice."

"Later I would try agreeing with him, hoping this would get him to stop tormenting me, but he seemed to sense that I was not being honest and only wanted to see this whole issue come to a conclusion so I might get on with my life." She replied. "Instead he would return again to saying that it was important to my future that I understand."

"Then a few months ago his message to me one night changed. He came to me no longer seeming sad, but instead with a look of determination and fire that seemed disturbing to me. He said not to fear for he had found a way to settle the injustice." She seemed even more uncomfortable by this part of the story. "He said the judges in Baator would allow him to exchange his assigned eternal punishment if he could give it to those who were more deserving for their crimes."

"By then his ghost had been coming to me so regularly to speak that I had begun to grow accustomed to it. While this was a new statement from him, I did not take it to mean anything different than his other earlier proclamations of his own innocence or of my needing to understand." She explained. "And since this was in preparation for my midterm examinations I took no interest in it even when he started to return every few days with word that another judge had reviewed his appeal and granted him parole. As of last night he said the sixth such had now been appeased to accept his innocence."

"Please understand I knew not what he was actually telling me by this." She said and in truth while the story had tickled some part of my memory I could not immediately make the proper association. "It was not until this afternoon that I understood more of what he was speaking of with these comments. I met with Lars for lunch this afternoon since we do so often when he is not travelling. I must also admit we have talked of a life together once I graduate from school saying that it is only right that my family still own a share of the business that my father had built for us."

"But today Lars seemed nervous and out of sorts and I had to ask him what was wrong." She explained. "He told me that in the past few weeks all the merchants and suitor that had testified against my father had been killed. Each supposedly had also left a note admitting they had lied at the trial and the reasons they had done so. And this very morning a sixth person from the trial, the 'priest'…" She placed an odd emphasis on this word. "…who had been the one to search the farm and declare the cattle had been poisoned was found dead as well in his quarters. With him though the note found with his body not only declared that he had lied about the cattle but that he was not even a true priest but merely a.."

"Heretic." I said aloud suddenly making the leap of understanding.

"How did you know that?" She asked surprised.

I asked her to give me a moment before I responded and then turned to Chanella and asked her to go get me a copy of a certain book. The half elf girl scampered off and at that point I turned back to my present companions and began my explanation.

"Are you familiar with Nikolai Alexander?" I asked.

"Of course how could I have missed that?" Tess stated slapping her forehead but the other two simply looked on with complete confusion so explained.

"Nikolai, who preferred to by called Kolya, was a holy warrior who like your father went to Baator only Kolya went there to seek out the soul of his love, although in his reminiscing he called this place Hell. While he slew many of the denizens of the plane by his faith and blade, he could not find the soul of his love. Finally the powers that ruled this dark and evil plane offered the warrior a deal. They would reunite Kolya with his love if the two agreed to submit to the judgment of each level. If the pair could prove they were undeserving of the punishments of that level they could move on. But if either failed then they both must accept eternal punishment by that judge. Kolya accepted this deal knowing his paladin's heart would never have allowed him to love someone worthy of such judgments."

"The trick though with Baator, or so Kolya claimed, is that to escape its grasp one must go deeper and deeper into its power for only at its very center is can one find the doorway out." At this point Chanella came back to me carrying the large leather bound book which I laid upon the desk. We could all see the cover and the name written upon its face in dancing flame like letters. _Nikolai's Inferno._

"How well did you know those who testified against your father?" I asked Amy.

"I knew them fairly well, at least by their business reputations." She replied. I nodded at this and began to page through the volume.

"Would you say any of the merchants who testified against your father envied him?" I asked.

"Most certainly." Amy replied. "The one who died first admitted in his note that his testimony had been solely given because he was jealous of my father's business success."

I nodded again and flipped a few more pages. "You said that one of the witnesses had been a former suitor of your mother's as well. Did that person happen to be the second to die?"

"How did you know that?" She asked now fully accepting that I might have some insight into her situation.

"I know because while Envy is punished in the first circle of Baator, Lust is the crime punished in the second." I explained flipping more pages without explaining any further.

As if the book had been written just for this case the other merchants were found guilty of Gluttony, trying to form a monopoly over all the customer base here in Il' Aluk, Greed, wanting to increase the costs of goods higher than most could afford to pay, and Wrath, stemming from an angry confrontation one had with Amy's father years earlier.

When we got up to the priest who had died yesterday I opened the book to this section as well. "The sixth circle of Baator is punishment for…"

"Heretics." Amy interrupted the same way I had done so to her earlier, now seeing the pattern I was putting before her. Indeed those who proclaimed false worship in the gods were not thought well of in any of the potential afterlife options available to mortals.

"What then is the punished crime for the seventh circle?" Harmon asked. While we had used history to figure out what was happening, the key to this mystery obviously was what we would do with this information. Could we prevent more deaths?

I flipped the requisite number of pages until I found the proper section. "Blasphemy." I replied.

"Which means?" Amy asked.

"It is a crime of speaking falsely of or for the gods my dear." Tess answered still wearing a smile that I had figured out this riddle. "Did someone invoke the gods during the trial?"

Amy thought for a time and then shook her head. "No ma'am none of the witness said anything of the gods that I can remember."

I could see that Tess was disappointed by this information. I myself found it unsurprising. Religion, while present in Darkon was not as dominating a factor in most citizens' lives as it played in many other places. In fact were it not for the divine healing that the churches could provide beyond what doctors were capable of, and their natural abilities to prevent and counter the undead, the churches would likely be totally ignored. But this brought me to a possible solution.

"Did you not say that your father had requested a priest preside at the trial to prove the witnesses spoke the truth?" I asked.

"Yes." Amy answered.

"Yes but that is demonstrating a god's power Rudolph not blasphemy." Tess replied. "Not speaking falsely of or for them."

"It would be if the priest lied on the results of his divine spell though wouldn't it?" I asked.

We all pondered that for a moment. "It's a proper question for the College of Theology but to me it seems possible."

"Then I suggest that we go see this priest forth with." Harmon suggested. "Hopefully before the judge of the seventh circle makes his next ruling." I agreed of course but the sunlight was now setting quickly and none of us relished the idea of being caught out of doors after darkness had fallen, especially if we were seeking to do battle with the undead.

Instead we agreed to accompany Amy to her dorm room and spend the night. Perhaps we could reason with her ghostly father and stop any further deaths from occurring. Even Tess and Chanella agreed to this, partially sighting it would be unseemly for an unmarried woman to entertain not only one, but two unmarried men, in her dorm room without proper chaperoning. While this may seem a bit dated to you readers, I will say that such incidents had in the past been the source of student expulsions.

That night we five spent in a dorm room every bit as cramped as my own was. Tess and Chanella were given the bed to first sit down on and then eventually to rest as the hours of night passed slowly. Amy offered us the only chair in the room but neither Harmon nor I would allow her to sit on the floor since we had both been raised better than that.

Harmon and I spent the night continuing our study discussions, which Amy was kind enough to join in on when we got to a point of debate or a question we could not immediately answer. I found those hours, ones I consider my first true discussion among colleagues, to be immensely enjoyable regardless of the situation that had brought us to this place and time. Had we the opportunity I am sure that we would have continued on through the whole night with only the occasional interruption that Tess's snores or Chanella's rolling over in her dreams provided.

About the midnight bell Amy's room took on a definite cold chill which was all the warning we received of our newest visitor. It was her shaking at this chill that made me realize I had felt this as well.

Amy's father appeared in the midst of the three of us, his back to Harmon and I as if we were of no concern. We of course were all shocked into silence, Harmon especially by is first vision of the spectral undead, but that lasted only long enough until Amy began to speak.

"What do you mean father?" She asked. Her question appeared to be a response to something her father had said but neither Harmon nor I had heard anyone else speak.

After a long delay Amy spoke again. "No father you must stop this!" Her voice was now louder and woke Tess and Chanella who opened their eyes to see a ghost standing, well hovering, just a few feet distant. They shouted in surprise but neither Amy nor the ghost seemed to take note of them and continued their private discussions.

"No please father do not do this!" She screamed and ran to grab the ghost but passed right through him and landed in Harmon's arms instead of falling to the ground. Before she could turn around the ghost has faded completely from view.

"We have to stop him before he goes through with it and kills anyone else!" She said looking at us like we should already be moving but faced only a sea of confused faces.

"What did you father say?" Harmon asked.

"What?" She asked confused. "You heard him. We don't have time for this."

"No dear we only heard you." Tess replied in a calm and motherly type tone.

"What do you mean?" She now was more scared. "He was right here a minute ago."

"We saw him Amy." I replied which helped calm here. "But we could not hear anything he said to you."

"I have heard there are spells that mages can use to talk mind to mind." Tess added. "Perhaps he used some similar power."

That seemed to calm her enough to focus once more upon the urgency of what he said. She now turned to us and filled in these details. "My father told me that the seventh judge had been appeased and that he would go this night to appease the eighth as well."

The academic question on blasphemy seemed to have been answered without the need to confer with the College of Theology. But this led to the next issue. The eighth level of Baator was punishment for thieves. But I could not see from the story that Amy had told who was a thief. I quickly explained this to the others.

"The farmer!" Amy replied. "My father said the priest admitted that the farmer had actually sold his herd and then faked their death and cremation to double his profits."

Was it possible to steal your own possessions? I guess so if you convince someone else to pay for them it was. But that still left us unable to do anything since leaving the building and especially leaving the town for a nearby farm was likely a death sentence from the undead the roamed the wilds. Even Amy came to understand this after a moment of quick debate though I could see the idea of her father being responsible for the deaths of more people made her edgy. Harmon however had the solution to this by the next question he had the foresight to ask.

"Let us assume that your father makes good on his threat and the farmer thief is sent to circle eight of Baator, that leaves only one more circle to be completed." Harmon explained. "What is the crime for the ninth circle and who will be the victim?"

"Chanella can you hand me the copy of _Nikolai's Inferno_?" I asked knowing she had kept the volume with her.

"Sure." She replied handing over the book and waiting until I opened it to continue speaking. "But the answer you are looking for is Betrayal." She said with a smile. "What" She laughed. "You give me the book and don't think I am going to read it and find out how the story ends?" I looked cross eyed at Chanella and broke into a smile as Tess ruffled her hair. She was truly her mother's daughter in all things but blood, and that I suddenly realized wa not all that important.

"Betrayal?" Harmon and Amy asked at the same time.

"Yes that is what the book says." I confirmed immediately as I skimmed the pages.

"That does make sense in a way." Tess voiced in. "Blasphemy destroys a relationship of faith, theft a relationship of property, but betrayal ends all relationships between two beings. There can be no going back for either once this crime has been committed."

"But who would your father think could possibly have betrayed him?" Harmon asked Amy.

"I do not know." She replied. "I cannot think of anyone who might have been responsible for such a crime."

"You are looking at this the wrong way." I replied. "Everyone so far has been a witness at your father's trial. Even the lie detecting priest was testifying to the veracity of the other witnesses. So the real question is who else was on the witness list?"

Amy went through this in her mind but I could see by the frustration she still could not arrive at an answer. But then all the color drained out of her face and she nearly fell once more had it not been for the quick hands of Harmon who again held her in his arms.

"Who?" I asked more persistently.

She found her balance after a moment and then turned to look at us speaking only one word. "Lars!"

The next couple of hours were likely the longest in Amy's life and while we tried to engage her mind in helping us make the appropriate plans for once the sun had risen, we could still see that when not part of the conversation her eyes seemed to wander and fill with worry. But was the worry for the life of her love or that he may have actually betrayed her father?

We decided to split our efforts toward the greatest priorities. Since her father had claimed that the blasphemer had been eliminated we agreed that Tess and Chanella would track him down since they believed he often lectured at the College of Theology.

The farmer was the next target for the ghost so Harmon and I agreed we would go seek him out ourselves. Thankfully the weekend had arrived with the dawn there would be no classes for the next two days for the trip on foot would take hours each way.

That left Amy to meet up with Lars and give him the necessary warning that his own life may also be in danger. We agreed that she would stay with him and that we all would meet up at his house and plan accordingly based upon what we had learned. The question therefore rested with what the ghost would do next.

We followed Amy's directions and found the farm with not much effort. Had I not known where it was located I must admit that it would still have been easy to find for the line of smoke rising in the morning sun was a signal to all that something was wrong at this place. As we got closer with every minute the rising cloud revealed itself to be the smoking ruins of a barn and a house and a third item that could only be the remains of a funeral pyre by its shape and size. In this case though I had a feeling the party consumed by fire was not actually dead until the flames had begun to rise.

As we got closer still I could see the pyre itself had been built before a large char pit, a common requirement of any location where death, such as those of animals, was a normal part of business and where the owner did not want to attract ghouls by the scent of rotting remains. With Amy's story one would expect that this pit had recently been filled with the bony remains of two hundred or more cattle.

But instead of cows Harmon and I could see at leas two hundred animated skeletons, human skeletons not cows however, that stood surrounded the cooling pyre. None of these moved, though with such things this was common unless the skeletons had been ordered to attack or defend. The fact that these bony guardians were standing upright rather than piles of bones upon the ground was enough proof to me that they were undead. And in such numbers it was reason enough for Harmon and me to back away and assume that the judge of the eighth level had been properly appeased by Amy's father. There was nothing more we could do here it seemed.

Now having confirmed this mystery would all come down to one last person we raced back to the city heading for the location where we had been told Lars lived. The only delay we took was to tell the guards at the city gate, thankfully a new group of four and not the ones who had seen us leave the city this morning, of the skeleton army that stood around the pyre at the farm down the road. They looked at our story skeptically, but by my commoner clothing and the thin trail of smoke still visible added credence to our story. This is one of the few times I found that being outside of the nobility actually served my purposes better.

We hurried through the streets of the capital city, trying not to attract too much attention to ourselves by our pace. Lars's home was in one of the more affluent districts but thankfully Harmon seemed every bit at home in such an environment taking on the airs of a local returning to his lands and I quickly took on the role of his servant if anyone cared to look close enough at us. Lars's house was not hard to find, and was a respectable size without trying to be overly presumptuous.

I knocked on the door and was surprised to see it swing open from the blow and no servants come to investigate the noise. This was odd and immediately put me on guard wondering if perhaps our arrival had been too late and the ghost had appeased the ninth judge as well as all the others. But a voice from down the hallway called out to us in a tone that seemed both calm and confident.

"Gentlemen please join us in the library if you would please." The voice spoke obviously knowing who was now standing at the door and obviously unperturbed by our arrival. From these hints I could only assume the voice's owner was Lars. While I quickly considered that it might be possible he had dismissed his servants for the day once he had learned of the danger to himself, something in his tone still kept me on my guard.

Harmon and I wandered down the hallway and I could see by the way his hand never strayed far from the wheel lock pistol in his belt that he too sensed there was something amiss in this situation. We entered the library which was the only door open, a common noble room of less than one hundred volumes along a single wall, and found Amy, Tess, and Chanella had already arrived and were seated in a circle, while a man less than a decade older than myself who I took to be Lars was kneeling nearby.

The justification, however, of my concern was that the three ladies were securely tied to chairs while Lars kneeled behind Amy with her head pulled back and a sharp blade of a dagger at her throat. Above the four of them was suspended a large bladder that appeared to be sewn together from the hides of at least two full sized cows and perhaps even more. Some corner of my mind wondered if their former owners had been among those Amy's father was convicted for poisoning. What if anything the bladder contained I could not begin to identify.

"Once again gentlemen I bid you welcome to my home." He made the knife flicker in his hands to ensure we had seen it. "I ask you to deposit your weapons over on that table and then come take a seat on the chairs I prepared for your arrival as well." The request was accompanied by obvious additional duress threats to our female companions if we chose not to comply. I looked to the two remaining chairs and found they had been set up with ropes to secure the arms and legs of the person sitting within and the ingenious part was they could do so with a quick tug of the one loose end of the rope so did not require Lars to secure us.

Harmon looked at me wondering if we dared to risk the others but while I considered our options Amy spoke. "Please do as he says. He swears he will not hurt any of us."

"You would understand if we harbor our own doubts at such assurances madam." Harmon replied.

"But do you truly have any other choice?" Lars asked moving from Amy and putting the blade to Chanella's throat instead. For me that made my decision and Harmon's a well.

Resigned to this reality I unsheathed my dagger and placed it on the table beside one I recognized that Chanella carried usually. Harmon paused only long enough to sigh and accept the inevitable and did the same with his pistol and blade as well.

Following Lars's directions we sat in the chairs and secured ourselves to them leaving only our off hands free which Lars then secured all on his own. Then with the practice image of the perfect host Lars sheathed his own dagger and took the last remaining seat in the circle, the only one without ropes, so we might all seem to be equals.

"So I assume by this arrangement you did in fact betray Amy's father?" Harmon asked making sure at least that we knew the truth to all this incase we were to die in this room.

"You need not deny it was all planned out in advance." I added. "We saw the skeletons out at the farm and they were human bones not cattle. Obviously we know that thieving farmer's price to lie on the stand. But what was yours? A business you were to already willed to inherit within a few years anyway?" I asked wanted to learn the motivations of this man and thereby determine if he actually would keep his promise to Amy and not hurt us however this turned out. For some reason I could not help but see Ingrid crying in my mind upon hearing of my death and I did not want that to come to pass.

"Well you know the old saying about a bird in the hand." Lars tried to laugh this off.

"So you arranged all this?" Tess asked

"Me?" Lars replied. "Hardly. I think you would be surprised by the number of enemies my former master had made in his life and business dealings. It only took one with a vision and sufficient funds to recruit all the others to the cause. And the bright side is everyone got the profits they desired from this, be it revenge, wealth, or something else. It was flawless, or might I use a medical term in honor of you all, it was surgical in its precision execution." He said with no little pride.

"Right up until you conspirators started dying off." I said reminding him that not everything was a bright as he tried to make it out to be. This took the hint of a smile from his face.

After a long pause to control his response Lars replied. "I must admit you are correct on that last point at least." He tipped an invisible hat toward me. "But even then I still learned of all this and the determined the likely source early enough to make the proper preparations. The fact that all the other conspirators are dead simply assures me now that the secret we shared is safe since I need no longer think one of the other might try to blackmail me with their own information."

There, of course, lay the true problem with most conspiracies. While forces could be aligned to achieve a certain goal, once they were met there was nothing else bonding the conspirators together except their joint guilt. And that type of bond only existed as long as all parties felt they had the same amount to lose if the lie was ever exposed. Once this tenuous status quo was broken, and it almost always was, the individual parties would all realize their trust was built on a rocky foundation with other individuals who had proven their willingness to put their own fortunes ahead of their morals once already. So what would stop these untrustworthy people from doing so again?

I also realized quickly through similar deductions that Lars could not afford then to leave us alive for now we too were witnesses to these events. And unlike the members of this plan we did not have even the bond as additional conspirators that might allow him to trust us. In these events the members of our group were only liabilities to his successfully getting away with the crime he had perpetrated. I could only hope he had not figured this all out himself already and so I turned the conversation so that I would not inadvertently educate him to this conclusion.

"What is this leather object above our heads?" I asked turning everyone's attention away from the crime and instead to potentially less dangerous things.

"Ah you noticed my insurance plan did you?" He smiled thinking himself clever. How anyone could have missed such an object was of course beyond me.

"Since our visiting ghost seems to care about his daughter I figure I would demonstrate to him the folly of trying to kill me if it were to mean her death as well." He said with no lack of satisfaction in his voice. "I have heard that parents will go to extraordinary lengths to assure the survival of their children, even risking their own lives. I wonder if the undead hold similar feeling where such things are concerned?"

Of course being childless at the time I only had the vaguest understanding of what such a statement truly meant. Even then I could not doubt Lars understood perhaps the only protection he might have against such a creature as the ghost that hunted him. If the bladder was filled with flammable oil or worse still a light acid, would Amy's father still seek Lars's death and the risk of his child or could he be forced into accepting that his former apprentice had gotten the better of him and end things there.

"And of course how could her loving father dare to kill his only daughter's husband?" He asked laughing noting the confused look on all of our faces with the exception of Amy who hung her head in seeming shame. All of us waited for further explanation.

"You did not know?" He laughed all the harder. Suddenly I understood what the added incentive was that had caused Lars to betray his master. He knew her father would never approve of their marriage. An apprentice might be trusted to run a business but never to marry the owner's precious daughter. But with the father and his master out of the way Lars could have his cake and eat it too. "We were married yesterday right after I informed Amy that the other witnesses had all been killed. Thankfully I know a priest Father Dominic, or is it I knew a priest, who could be convinced to perform the wedding ceremony immediately."

The scowl on Tess's face left little doubt that Father Dominic had been the very blasphemy sinner she and Chanella had went to locate and obvious learned he too had died and now was likely facing punishment in Baator for this actions. "Of course my honeymoon was a bit more abrupt this morning than I would personally have desired it to be, what with the arrival of your friends, but in the eyes of the law and religion it was enough to make the wedding binding in all things."

Amy could not raise her head to look at any of us and the way her body shook it was obvious that she was torn between feeling of guilt and sorrow from her actions. She was hardly also the first woman to be duped by a man. While I think we all wanted to say something to comfort her, now was neither the time nor the place to do so.

Silence descended in the room as none of us had anything further to say at this point. We might have tried to talk our way out of this predicament, or offer our support, but the mad gleam in Lars's eyes and the way he toyed with his dagger as the hours passed and darkness approached made that course seem a waste of effort.

I know not what the others thought of, though I could see each of them, with the exception of Amy test their bonds occasionally hoping for escape but the knots proved both simple and effective in keeping us restrained. Both Harmon and Chanella wore looks when they gazed upon Lars that seemed to hope that the ghost would not be the all caring parent that the merchant betrayer's plan rested upon.

As for me I submitted to the inevitability of the current situation and decided that until such time as the conditions I was in changed, I would focus my thoughts on happy memories. Were this to be my last hours I might as well fill them with the most pleasant things I could recall.

Oddly or perhaps not so, Ingrid's face seemed to be the center of much of this reminiscing for me. I smiled at many memories of times we had spent laughing and was saddened to think of those times coming to an end. I even thought of the one kiss we had shared nearly two years ago and regretted not seeking more somehow knowing she would have been willing to provide such if I merely had the courage to ask.

The thought struck me then like sunlight bursting through the clouds that I was in love with my best friend and had been for as long as I could remember. I had been a fool not to admit this until now, and a bigger fool to not have shared any of my feelings with her. I wondered at the moment if she felt the same way, and through this new prism of understanding I saw that she had been telling me how she felt for years in every way but words. How could I have been so blinded?

I am not a religious man by tradition, at least I have not sworn my soul to any one faith. But there tied to a chair I did release my spirit and speak to any divine powers who might have interest in me and be listening that if I did survive this event then I would make amends for my foolishness. I would do the work, but I might need a bit of their assistance to get me to that point; specifically to live.

Darkness fell and the tension, accompanied in silence as it was continued to build up in the room as each hourly bell brought us closer to midnight, the time when the ghost had appeared last evening. I began to count the seconds and minutes in my head, certain the others were doing so as well, and cursing Lars for not having a clock anywhere in this room that I could see. I was fast in my count, by nearly ten whole seconds after an hour, but as this time faded away once more somewhere out in the distance we could hear the city bells ring in the midnight hour.

Just like the night before, the room began to chill and right before Amy a flicker of candlelight came into view that slowly grew in size to a full sized man, but only barely increased in luminosity. Though none of us could hear it, I assume the ghost called out to his daughter for she raised her tear filled eyes to look upon him.

""Find your peace father." Amy whispered and Lars who had been seated off to the side stood up suddenly, drawing all our attention to him, even that of the ghost as he grabbed a concealed pull rope and yanked heavily upon it. The ghost's eyes turned from sadness to wrath at seeing his apprentice and his tied up daughter just as a ripping sound of leather above our heads caused the rest of us to look up.

The seams of the well stitched and wax sealed bladder came apart in response to the combined tug from Lars on the rope and the weight of the liquid this seam had been forced to contain. Down it poured upon us, six living beings and one undead, showering and covering us all in one fell splash. I braced for it and closed my eyes hoping to protect them as long as possible from the oil or acid, whichever it turned out to be.

But it was neither type of fluid that had been held inside the giant waterskin. Instead it was water, holy water actually that doused us all. For the six living this was nothing more than having a bucket of room temperature water tossed upon us, but for the ghost this was every bit the agony we would have suffered had it been the most powerful of acids. I opened my eyes once I realized the type of liquid held no danger and saw the spectral apparition being eaten away before my eyes. Ghostly flesh melted away to reveal ghostly bone, black as night.

If I ever had doubts that a ghost can feel pain it was erased at that time for her father collapsed first to his knees and then into a ball as with each second more and more of him was eaten away by the liquid covering him and that which he now lay upon.

Lars shouted in triumph and pulled one of the daggers, mine it seemed, from the table and stepped over to Amy's chair. "It worked!" He shouted and laughed in glee as he cut free her bindings and lifted her up from the chair to wrap her in his arms and kiss her on the forehead. His excitement was overwhelming for he knew that he had survived the attack the ghost had planned for him.

Amy remained stock still and after not responding to him or even acknowledging her freedom, Lars took a step back and held her out at arm's length, looking from her father, who had stopped almost all his movements as he kept dissolving, to the daughter. His eyes came back to hers just in time to see her smile before he felt the small hidden four inch bladed dagger drive up under his sternum and find his heart. While she had likely never before killed a man, her courses in anatomy made the attack a simple one at so close a range with an unsuspecting target.

Blood burst from his mouth as Lars fell to his knees, dagger still sticking out of his heart, right before his killer. "But I thought you…" The rest of the words were cut off by a gush of blood.

"What?" Amy asked. "Loved you? Wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?"

Lars fell to his back staring up with eyes that could barely see as the last moments of his life flickered away like a sputtering candle. He never was able to answer her final question.

"I needed you to get control of my father's business nothing more." She spat with contempt upon her husband. "As you quite elegantly stated our marriage is legal therefore with your passing all your belongings are now my own. Not a bad day's work for the three most disgusting minutes I ever had to spend that you call a honeymoon." She laughed all the more as the light left his eyes for the last time.

"Amy cut us free." Chanella begged, not understanding all the ramifications of what she had seen.

"I cannot do that little one." Amy replied. "Your bodies are necessary to prove that my killing Lars was self defense. They will see them and hear my story on how he planned to kill me as well now that the ghost had been destroyed, which conveniently you provided evidence for. But in my case Lars had decided to enjoy his wife once more before she too was killed and during is attempted rape I killed him with my dagger."

"Very well planned." Harmon said. "I never suspected you to be so cold and calculating. I assume therefore this plan against your father was yours from the start?"

"Of course." She said smiling. "My father had always wanted a son to pass his business onto. He could never accept a daughter having such a responsibility. Women were to serve more traditional purposes. In fact I only convinced him to allow me to go to medical school by claiming it would make me a better midwife!"

"It is a pity he did not understand your calculating mind." Harmon said. "You likely would have impressed him with your ruthlessness if it transfers to business as well as it applies to betrayal."

At that word the remains of the ghost, a burned and torn spectral image that still had a glow of vengeance in his eyes stood up once more and drove both his hands into his daughter's body. Amy screamed and her body went still and rigid between his grasp.

"Father no!" She cried. "I am your daughter!"

I could feel the charm on my chest, the very one the Vistani had given me warm suddenly. From this magic I could now hear what it was the ghost said as well.

"It is important you understand Amy." He said. "I helped bring you into the world but I never was there to raise you right. You have chosen evil my dear and I cannot allow that to infect others so I must erase this mistake on my part. I need you to understand why I do this." His words were sorrow filled for while his spirit was filled with vengeance at his false trial, he still loved his daughter. He watched her die in his arms, knowing what he was doing was a mercy not so much to her but most definitely for the rest of the world. When she finally went limp in death, he bent down and kissed her forehead and then faded one last time into oblivion.

Luckily for the rest of us Lars's servants returned with the dawn and following our shouts found us tied to the chairs. They were split on what to do with us as their employer and his new wife were lying dead at our feet, but also seeing there was no way we were the likely killers based upon our inability to move. We convinced them to compromise on this, freeing us and providing food and drink but that we would stay here under their guard until the town watch returned and we explained the events of all that had taken place to the authorities as well.

In truth this was the only proper course as the town watch could just as easily assume one or more of the servants had been to blame for these events and the bodies then left behind. Such occurrences are not without precedent in lands like my own.

The questioning by the authorities took hours, in fact we even ate a second meal by the time the watch was convinced of our stories and we were freed. In part the fact that Harmon and I had reported the skeletons at the farm to the watch which they had confirmed on their own lent unexpected credence to our story. The officer who performed the majority of the interview still looked at us as potential trouble and told us as we left he would keep our names on file in case of any future incidents. All things considered I accepted this as a reasonable action.

"So this is what one of your ghost encounters regularly entails?" Harmon asked as the group of four of us headed back to the university campus and our rooms.

Before I could answer Chanella piped in. "Oh yes!" She replied. "Did he tell you about the battle in the Border Ethereal or how we put to rest the elven warrior's ghost?"

Harmon slowed and looked first at her excitement and then over to me with just a shake of his head. "How you have time to become a doctor is beyond me." He laughed. "But at least I understand why you chose to."

"Because he likes to help others of course." Tess answered with no little pride.

"No." Harmon replied. "Because everyone needs a relaxing hobby and compared to this, a doctor's life is dull!"

We all laughed until we said our goodbyes for now and went to seek our own beds and quiet solitude of sleep we required. I thought over Harmon's words as well of those of Tess. Was I trying to balance the excitement of ghost hunting with a more mundane existence? If so what would that mean for my future?

I suddenly decided that sleep was no longer my first priority and grabbed a small container my father had given me and a few personal items before departing the dorm. I went to a local tack and stable and rented a horse and saddle for the weekend. While it was past noon by that time and I only had at most four or so more hours of daylight remaining for a winter's day, I rode out of town heading west, urging the horse to a rapid pace but making sure not to injure him along the way.

We reached Rivalis as the sun was setting and I must have looked like a crazy man ridding up with my heavy cloak blowing in the wind behind me. No one, however, challenged me as I rode straight past my own home that lay dark since my father had passed on, stopping there only long enough to stable and feed the horse, before running in the fading light right to the house of Ingrid and her mother Elsa.

Ingrid was the first to the door to respond to my pounding and it took a call to identify that it was me to convince her to open the door and let me in since darkness was now upon us. "Rudolph what is it?" She asked obviously set back by my nearly out of breath pose ad the determination upon my face. I could see she was concerned for me and that gave me all the strength I needed to find my breath and balance once more.

"Your mother?" I asked. "Where is she?"

A look of fear now nearly crossed her face. "She is in the kitchen making dinner. Why what is wrong?"

"Come with me." I said taking her hand to brook no further argument.

True to her word Elsa was indeed standing in the kitchen, carving knife in hand though obviously she had heard my knocking and at least some of the words being spoken. Still she could not tell from my expression what my surprise visit entailed.

I fell down to my knees, still winded and both women moved to offer me assistance but instead I first held my hand up to stop them in place and then I captured Ingrid's in my own.

"Ingrid before your mother's eyes I ask you to be my wife." I said pulling my mother's wedding band from my pocket, a silver art piece that Eldrenn's father had made for my father, and who upon her death had passed on to me for my own future bride. I slipped it on Ingrid's finger.

She said nothing but only nodded enthusiastically as tears of happiness rimmed her eyes.

There before two nodding women, I Rudolph Van Richten became engaged to my beloved Ingrid.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Fall of Year 690 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 11_**

My engagement to Ingrid was the center of my existence for the following year. While she still spent nights with her mother, during the days when she did not have other chores she began to clean out my parent's house that had by their deaths become part of my inheritance. Ingrid knew it would soon be where we would be living when I returned from college and acting as the good wife to be she set about making it a warm and welcoming place for us to live and perhaps one day have a family of our own as well. It was even arranged that upon my return my aunt would move in with Ingrid's mother to share the chores of a joint house, though Ingrid had convinced the two women it was so they would both be readily available once our children were born. This idea made all three women glow and was the highpoint of that year for me.

The third year of medical school at the University of Il' Aluk however is dedicated toward botany, chemistry, and medicinal cures for common ailments. The courseware spends much of its time introducing the students first to the various subjects, and testing them on their memorization of the curative effects of each. After a hopeful doctor has demonstrated his or her skill in recalling what the appropriate drug was for various displayed symptoms of a patient the course then focuses upon proper dosages based primarily upon the relative weight of the patient.

While the previous year may have been generally interesting to me and boring to Harmon, this year was deemed boring to us both. We trudged through the materials because we had to and not even the notes I sent to my aunt on even better actual cures whose true purpose was to save others in my village from my own indignities at her hands, was enough to keep my brain as actively engaged as I was used committing to by this point. I should have been more cautious in my tempting of fate when Harmon said he was so bored he even ready for another ghostly encounter just to break up the monotony of our lives and I actually agreed. I think perhaps the gods wait with eager anticipation for such statements before the cause all types of havoc.

It was a mid afternoon day in early fall when the weather was still quite warm and showed signs of possibly carrying with it thunderstorms for later that evening. Harmon and I at this time were by ourselves alone in the college cafeteria enjoying a snack between meals as we quizzed each other on more of the various drug compounds that were the current bane of or existence. Thankfully the food made up for this.

I had told Harmon the story of Sarah and Ernie and this became impetus for a near demand from my partner to meet these two. In the past three years Ernie had learned everything Sarah could teach him about food and had developed a quite flamboyant style for the students and faculty because of this new confidence while Sarah stayed in the shadows so to speak. I still worried about such a relationship these two had, but every time I entered that kitchen I felt a wave of calm and caring sweep through me that told me they were both happy.

Of course, not being a fool, I did use my friendship with them to get a few special favors based upon our history. If the pair baked pies, one was always set aside for Harmon, Tess, Chanella, and I to share regardless of how many others asked for second or even thirds. When we needed a quiet place to study, the cafeteria doors were opened for us and while we read our books we 'assisted' the cooks by taste testing their supplies of fresh baked cookies as well. All in all a terrible responsibility if one's family has a prevalent weight issue which thankfully neither of ours had.

It was here in this type of environment where Harmon and I were studying and enjoying warm cookies that a new first year medical student I was unfamiliar with burst upon us that afternoon in an obvious state of overriding panic. "Rudolph Van Richten and Harmon Ruscheider?" The student asked to which we both nodded.

"Sirs you are needed at once in the anatomy labs!" He began to run off but thankfully Harmon was quick of mind and was able to call to him before he was too far away.

"Stop boy and tell us the emergency." He yelled bringing the freshman student to a halt.

"No we need to hurry." He said. "Lives are in danger."

"All the more reason to know is it not, so we can prepare appropriately?" He asked. "If you run off in the night to see a patient wouldn't you like to know if it is a sick child or a woman in labor so you can choose the right tools and medicines to bring?"

He nodded understanding. "It a ghost!"

"Has it hurt anyone?" I asked.

"It caused Maria to faint!" He replied. "It screamed at everyone to leave his body alone!"

I could see the boy was in a state of panic so I told him to lead on and we would follow in his wake. Neither I nor Harmon thought this required us to arm ourselves for the spirit sounded like it was willing to be rationale even if the class of students had lost their composure.

As we tromped down the stairs I called to him. "Who sent you to find us?" I asked.

"Professor Westridge said you would be able to help." He explained as he reached the basement and we picked up the pace once more. For some reason this made me relax more for had it been Master Professor Gunther I would have been more concerned.

Please understand that my purpose here is not to cast dispersions upon this man, but rather to state the truce under which I thought we peacefully coexisted seemed more and more strained each time I encountered him. As far as I could rightfully tell it was not anything that I did for I always showed him the utmost respect and deference to his knowledge and authority. More so I can say with honesty than any student in the college. In fact Harmon always chided me that I should stand up more to the Master Professor or call him out in front of his peers for the disgraceful way he spoke to or treated me. There was much to recommend this course of action at times I must admit, especially when I was angered, but it was not my way.

I came to believe his dislike of me was one of class distinction for I represented a threat to his established order. I was the son of a mere merchant, albeit a rather successful one on the grand scheme of things, rather than one of the nobility like all the others of my class. This I suppose made me a threat since my academic performance in my classes was matched only by Harmon's and both of us were far superior to the next closest.

If a commoner could outperform a noble in education then where would such changes to the social strata stop? Would we rise up and reject taxation and indentured servitude? These were the means by which the nobles maintained their standing over the commoners. Without such tools their funds would quickly dry up and soon they would be forced out of their mansions and dare I say have to actually provide a service or create a product to make a day's wage. Why this might be the end of life as we know it. I joke of course but I know others who think this no laughing matter.

So there I sat, the very personification of Master Professor Gunther's biggest fear. I was the ogre telling the maiden not to be afraid that I would not eat her. How could I expect him to believe me? So instead I swallowed my pride and counted the time until I could graduate and move on to the next part of my life. On the bright side this likely ensured that I would not be sought out by alumni groups to provide funds to the college in the future either so maybe it all balanced the scales of justice in the long run of a life.

Unlike our own encounter with the zombie years earlier in this very room, the freshmen students of this year had mostly been able to flee to safety and the floating apparition above the to be dissected body did not seem to desire preventing any of them from leaving. In fact, his only concern seemed to be that no one damage his body, which his presence and his silent threats was preventing.

"Ah good Rudolph!" Professor Westridge called out and I answered. She seemed not in a panic though there was obviously a bit more stress than usual in her posture and voice. "It seems we have another of those events which you seem to have a knack for solving so I thought it best we call upon your skills for this service."

I nodded to her before taking a good look around the room to acquaint myself with the situation before making any foolish moves. I motioned for everyone present to stay still as I began to approach the spirit with slow and steady steps keeping my hands to my sides so not to appear in any way threatening to him.

When I reached within ten feet of the body the ghost suddenly noted my approach along with that of Harmon who was a step behind me. He obviously figured after our shared adventures that my request had not been meant for him and in truth I was pleased to have so reliable a man backing me up. Hopefully this was to prove to be an unnecessary precaution but of course one never knows until the end.

"Stay away from my body!" The ghost ordered. "I never agreed to this!" He raged.

I took one more step and then paused holding the spirit's attention. "Your time in this world is over good sir. It is time for you to pass on to the next world and find peace." I really need to take a few theology classes so that I better understood what I was suggesting that these beings do. Since some afterlife locations are not the most pleasant perhaps I should stop trying to sign people up for them. But that was an issue for another day.

"I do not care!" He screamed again. "I never agreed to be treated like livestock."

"No one would do such a thing." I tried to rationalize though in truth his description was not completely without merit.

"LIAR!" He screamed again. "She tried to cut me up." He pointed down to a student who lay upon the floor. Thankfully I could see she was breathing so I assumed this was the infamous Maria the fainter.

"She was merely using your mortal remains to learn how to treat others." I explained. "She, like all of us, desires to become a doctor so we can heal those sick or in pain. To do so we need to understand." I spoke softly and without emotion hoping I could calm the ghost.

"I never agreed to this!" He replied forcefully once again.

"But you did!" Professor Westridge called back then turned her attention to me. "They all do when they are recruited. In exchange they are paid twenty five gold pieces, or it is provided to their families. Body snatching is not a crime we approve of!" She explained.

I had honestly never thought of how the college acquired the bodies for anatomy class just as I never spent time wondering where any other of our school supplies had come from. Until this moment I had thought of the cadavers no longer as having once been human, though obviously that was the shape this particular school supply came in. If anything the zombie incident from my own freshman year made me less disposed to think of these having not that long before been living and breathing people with their own hopes and dreams. Likely none of these plans entailed this type of ultimate ending for the mortal shell they wore.

"I never agreed to this!" He stated again. "No one ever paid me!"

I looked at the Professor. "Is it possible that there was some sort of mistake? Is it possible a pair of coffins could have been inadvertently swapped somewhere along the way?"

"No!" She seemed completely certain and forceful in her declaration. "After the Carrot and MacDougal issue the college is now required to follow certain protocols in order to gather bodies of volunteers." She explained though I had no idea who Carrot and MacDougal were or what their issue entailed. "All the bodies we use are tattooed on the back of their left hand when they are paid the twenty five gold pieces to ensure the gravediggers know these bodies are not meant to be interred."

"I never agreed to this!" The ghost bellowed once again. "No one ever paid me!"

"He has the tattoo!" She pointed and I turned and looked at the corpse noting the truth of her statement for a black tattoo of two entwined snakes, the symbol of the College of Medicine, was on the cadaver's hand. But still such evidence was shaky.

"No! I never agreed to this!" The ghost now was entering tears. "No one ever paid me! I want my mommy!" He fell to his knees, though he still floated above his own corpse so I am not sure what that action meant to demonstrate. I saw him wring his hands, almost as if praying for divine intervention. Unfortunately there was only me and I am hardly the perfect tool for the gods. Or then again perhaps that was fortunate it was me in this case.

"Look at the ghost's hands!" I told everyone but looked at Professor Westridge especially. She did so and after a moment noticed that the ghost sported no tattoo to match the one on the body.

"Do tattoos pass over with the spirit?" Harmon asked before she came up with the same question.

"I would think so." I said not completely sure but still fairly confident. "Look his hair is the exact same length and color as the corpse's and he sports all the moles and freckles as well. Ghosts wear the clothing they died in most often to include jewelry so I do not think that tattoos would be any different." While not completely scientific, I did make a good case for this.

"What if someone added the tattoo after he had died?" Harmon asked the Professor and she obviously was considering this very possibility just as I myself was.

"We have to go speak with Professor Henry." She stated. "Collecting and recording volunteers is his responsibility."

"But what about him?" Harmon asked pointing to the ghost.

"No! I never agreed to this!" The ghost was crying and ignoring us. "No one ever paid me! I want my mommy!"

"We take him back to the graveyard and put him to rest." I said in a tone that brooked no further discussion on the matter. Professor Westridge nodded and ordered the remaining students to gather up Maria, who Harmon and I carried away from the ghost, and go locate the college janitor. It would be up to him to make the arrangements for internment, but Professor Westridge promised the college would pay for this expense.

With this plan now decided and spoke aloud and the ghost's mood immediately brightening at this possible reprieve the three of us went in search of Professor Henry to get a few more answers about how the cadaver process worked. I only hoped I would not have him as a teacher next year if I was about to possibly accuse him of a crime.

As it turned out my concern was without merit for while we pounded on his door and called for him to open up once we knew his room was locked from within. That he was home there was no doubt for the professors' quarters floor had an assigned member of the college security whose job was to ensure their safety but who also tended to keep track of their comings and goings. According to this guard Professor Henry had returned to his rooms hours ago and had not been seen since.

Our pounding did not go on without some response, though hardly the one I had hoped for.

"What is the meaning of this awful racket?" Master Professor Gunther said as he yanked open his door finding his three least desired members of the college standing a few feet away. "I should have known." He said in disgust. "Not satisfied with ruining my waking hours but now having to disturb my naps as well?"

"Gunther we need to speak with Henry." Professor Westridge explained. "There looks like there has been another issue with acquiring cadavers." While her statement was far more vague and carefully worded than the one she had mentioned earlier, I knew she was speaking around whatever the 'Carrot and MacDougal' incident had been. The reaction from Gunther was every bit as deadly serious as I had ever seen of him.

"Are you certain he is in there?" The Master Professor asked now obviously also interested in this event.

"So the guard says." She replied.

"Then break it down." He said with a sigh of resignation but a poorly hidden look of deeper concern. I knew they suspected something far bigger than a simple mistake in body selection was taking place but neither I nor Harmon had a clue as to what that could be.

Professor Westridge called to the guard who responded immediately and when told to break in the door, did so with only a single kick where the lock met the frame. Pleased with himself, he bowed without a word and turned to go back to his duties.

"Wait there soldier." The Master Professor commanded. We all looked into Professor Henry's room and found that while it was bright daylight outside, heavy black curtains had been drawn over all the windows engulfing the room in darkness, except for the flickering of a single candle that burned on a table near the center of his outer room. At this table the body of Professor Henry sat, slumped as if asleep leaning back in a chair, but with his eyes open and glazed over in death.

I noted as well that the room smelled of smoke, though this was neither from a fireplace, which would hardly be necessary this time of year, nor from the single candle. Instead it smelled of burned parchment and only by looking closely could I see that a small trail of smoke was rising from a metal box beside the table.

"We will all enter as witnesses." The Master Professor ordered. "But you are to touch nothing without my consent." He waited for our nods and was satisfied that for once Professor Westridge bowed to his authority and dictates without comment. He led the way.

"Guard first pull open the curtains and allow some light in here so we can better understand what has taken place." He ordered putting is arm up to keep us all back from the table. The guard went to comply and the sudden light brought the remainder of the room into sight revealing things we had not been able to see before.

Like any such quarters the room was filled with personal touches such as books and painting and knickknacks of one sort or another. These seemed all common enough in their proper places as did the other furniture in the room, being primarily a desk and a bed.

On the table though were a few items that clarified more of the scene before us. It held a pipe and a small leather pouch of a black powder that did not appear to be any type of pipeweed which I was familiar. I had started to develop a taste for this because it truth I thought it made me look every part the distinguished scholar and doctor I hoped to one day be.

"Black Lotus." The Master Professor said in disgust getting a confirming nod from Professor Westridge.

"May I check for a pulse sir?" Harmon asked. "There is a chance he may still be alive." I looked at him but his eyes flashed waving my question off. It was obvious that Professor Henry was dead for no one sits like this with their eyes glazed over and their mouth open unless he was trying to lure in flies. By the black stain on his tongue that I can only assume came from the Black Lotus I doubted if any flies would be willing to chance that mouth.

"Go ahead boy." Gunther said since the request was not unreasonable for a medical student.

Harmon reached over and lifted one of the professor's hands, cupping it into a fist and turning it to expose the wrist so he could feel for a heartbeat. After only a few seconds he let the arm fall back to his side and shook his head at all of us.

"Alright we are all gong to back out of here together since possession of Black Lotus is a crime." Professor Gunther said. "Guard you will stand here at this door and allow no one in until reinforcements arrive. The investigation is completely within the purview of the university watch's authority so do not foul it up."

"Boys you will go to the main guard station and report what you saw here." Gunther ordered both Harmon and I without allowing any chance at rebuttal from the two of us. "Make sure you get the senior member of the watch to be in charge of the necessary investigation though I think what actually happened here is obvious to us all already."

We nodded and began to walk off outdistancing the remaining professors but Harmon tugged on my sleeve and held me back so we would not get too far ahead just yet.

"What I do not understand is where Henry got the funds for so expensive a hobby." Gunther spoke softly but we could still hear him. "His salary certainly would not account for this."

"I think perhaps he was tied to Carrot and MacDougal." She replied not nearly as softly though obviously embarrassed. "Perhaps he had access to their profits."

"The pair are just as dead ad Henry." Gunther countered. "We both saw them hang."

"That does not mean there were not more members in their organization." She countered. "Maybe Henry was working with them and skimming the profit difference for himself."

"Perhaps." Gunther answered and the rest was lost as we had gotten too far ahead by that point.

I led Harmon across the campus toward the watch station but as we drew nearer to the building once more his hand reached up to slow my speed. I stopped and turned to look at him with a question in my eyes but allowing him the first word.

"Rudolph there is more at work here than what we have been told." He started. "Or rather what we have been allowed so far to overhear."

"What do you mean?"

"That room was staged." He replied

"Staged?" I asked. "How so?"

"Professor Henry did not die from an overdose of smoking Black Lotus powder." He answered.

"But his tongue…" I interrupted.

"Smoking Black Lotus does not stain the tongue." He explained. "That type of stain is provided by sucking on a Black Lotus tar ball which cannot be made from the powder we observed. Trust me I saw enough examples of this blight on humanity growing up in Lamordia. Black Lotus is one of the few crops that grow well for us with out climate, much to our sorrow."" I did not know all this about Black Lotus but accepted readily that Harmon obviously did. "Those who use tar balls also stain their fingers like their tongues unless they wear gloves to hide this. Professor Henry was not wearing a glove yet there were no stains on his fingers either."

"So THAT is why you wanted to check for a pulse." I now understood what he was doing and why he had not looked to his neck where we had been trained to do so first.

"Exactly." He replied pausing for a moment. "But that still leaves us then with a staged scene. Why go to all this trouble to make it look like he accidentally killed himself?"

"It must be the papers burning by the desk." I said after a moment. "Someone wanted to get rid of them and the person who knew what they contained."

"That is definitely a good possibility." He agreed. "The question is who else might know what they contained?"

"I figure it had to be something with the cadavers since that was Professor Henry's responsibility."

"Again a fair assumption."

"But who then would likely know what is trying to be hidden?" I asked hoping he had an answer.

"I can think of two names we can start with."

"Gunther and Westridge?"

"No." Harmon replied. "Carrot and MacDougal." He said without a hint of humor in his voice.

"You heard the Master Professor." I responded. "They were both hung so how can they help."

"Perhaps not at all." Harmon nodded. "Or perhaps we can learn who their colleagues were." He said as a second possibility. "But then again on the potential bright side this is Darkon." He smiled.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning only that your land does not seem to think death is necessarily and end to a life story." Harmon replied. "What if Carrot and MacDougal are still walking around?"

I pondered that very real possibility. "I think we need to go learn more about this pair and I think I know the perfect source."

"I agree then." Harmon nodded. "We will go see this person right after we tell the guards our story as we have been instructed and then we should go pick up a few supplies in our rooms." He seemed serious. "I am always surprised to see what type of trouble I can get in the middle of standing next to you Van Richten!" His attempt at being strictly seriousness broke into a smile of how much he actually enjoyed these adventures.

_MacDougal is the digger_

_Carrot is the thief_

_But who's the one_

_Who buys the beef?_

I stared in stunned amazement as Chanella repeated that rhyme with a smile. The fact that two men convicted and executed of body snatching from graveyards were now the centerpiece of a song that children in Il' Aluk jumped rope to seemed to me to be some sort of travesty of divine justice. How citizens who had died saving others from fires or evil monsters were forgotten by all except lonely bards, but a pair of twisted criminals had now been immortalized in the minds of or future generation for all time was beyond my ability to comprehend at this moment.

"And where did you say they sing this song?" Harmon asked since words for the moment escaped me.

"They sing it everywhere of course." She replied obviously confused by our reaction.

"This land of yours truly has some strange customs my friends." He actually laughed aloud though I can not say for sure it was strictly out of just enjoyment.

"The real question though remains." I said trying to refocus my mind after such a shock. "Where could we learn more about these two from those who had known them?" The current conversation had begun because I knew Chanella still had many contacts among the general population and they were more likely to know about a pair of thieves than Tess or any of the other students or faculty at the college would.

Where I had miscalculated it seems is that I broached the subject far too liberally by asking Chanella if she had ever heard of Carrot and MacDougal which immediately launched her into her rhyme. I am only thankful that she did not have a jump rope presently available or I am certain my mind would have shut down completely.

"That is easy." She replied with a smile. "Since they were grave robbers they hung out near the Il' Aluk cemetery so that they could keep watch on potential resalable material." The fact that she was in truth talking about the physical remains of people who undoubtedly had loved ones did not seem to phase her in the least.

"Might I suggest the closest drinking establishments?" Harmon added. "I would think the pair would need somewhere to relax while keeping watch or to bide their time until darkness settled in." What he said made sense and it served as our initial plan for the moment at least. If the pair had indeed been part of a larger group than the rest of the members would likely follow the same sort of patterns their cohorts had. The real challenge for us though is how would we explain our questions and the reasons behind them potentially to those whose life depended on their secrecy? I asked the group and once again Harmon came up with an immediate plan.

"It is simple." He started. "I will explain that I am a student of the College of Magic and I am requiring materials for a certain necromantic rite." He explained with a casual ease.

"And me?" I asked.

"Make that 'us.'" Chanella injected.

"You two of course are my servants and laborers." He replied. "You do not think a man of my class would directly get his hands dirty in such a business as moving bodies and such do you?" He stood upright and brushed imaginary dirt off of his overcoat as any noble might do to show their peers that the dirt of the commoners does not cling to him.

"Isn't Chanella a little young for a servant?" I asked.

"Rudolph you are charming in your naivety of the common decency of people." He replied with a smile. "I will hate to see the day that you have this illusion shattered." I do not know if he meant this as a compliment or a backhanded insult.

"And how do YOU have such knowledge?" I asked right back almost challenging him to say more.

"While my past is not nearly as colorful or as exciting as your own my friend that hardly means it was merely black and white." He replied with a smile that conveyed he was not going to go into any further detail about this for now at least. Thankfully I see myself as a good judge of character and while Harmon may have some skeletons in his closet, figuratively that is for those of you in Darkon where such things have been known to happen, they were not ones that made him petty and evil. I strongly suspected instead that his intentionally vague reference were stories of friends or family member that he was too embarrassed now to be associated with.

Our background and motive set we three made our way to the Il' Aluk cemetery which unlike any other living community in our land, was located within the town walls and did not regularly cremation of those interred within. Those people who lived the closest to the graveyard were the poorest lot of the city who were not yet homeless. Treading water with their lower lip at the wave level would not be an inaccurate description.

In fact the cold reality is many of our city's homeless felt safer living on the streets in another section of the city than under a roof in this area near the graveyard. From the stories these people told of things they heard and observed at nights living near the dead I do not think I completely disagreed with their choice. But it now was into this desperate part of town that the three of us were required to explore if we wanted to get to the bottom of this afternoon's events and the death of Professor Henry.

Each of us, depending upon who the target of our conversation was to be, took turns being the lead seeking information about Carrot and MacDougal. In little time and with the spreading of only a few copper coins or buying the occasional drink for a thirsty patron we learned the pair's in as much as local legend recalled it.

The pair were friends who called each other brother though a single look at the two made it obvious they did not share either parent. They were of course from this part of town, not of course born here as few actually ever were, but more likely condemned here by fickle fates or their own evil ways depending upon how sympathetic the teller of the story was.

The pair tried many paths to success, most of them get rich quick schemes that never seemed to pan out quite the way they wanted, or ever seemed to break in their favor. On the bright side the time they spent incarcerated for some of their minor crimes had actually provided them with temporary shelter and a guarantee of at least one meal of questionable quality a day which many of the local residents thought could be constituted as a step up at least from the local norm.

It was Carrot who had come up with the idea of stealing from the dead. He was a self proclaimed thief by trade but his every attempt at pick pocketing had ended in him being caught and usually severely beaten. In fact he had met his 'brother' MacDougal when the latter stepped in to keep a personal rival from nearly killing the thief. He had not been there specifically to save Carrot, just keep his regular acknowledged adversary from enjoying himself to much. But to Carrot the rescue, regardless of the motivations that lay behind it, made the pair of them family.

Since Carrot's thefts with the living were not overly profitable or physically healthy he thought perhaps the dead would be a better choice. People were always burying their relatives in their finest jewelry, at least that is what the common stories had said, so since all that gold and silver was not going to do a corpse any good, why not pick it up and put it to some real use. The idea seemed logical to him and he was soon able to convince his new brother and partner, who was not generally seen as the wiser of the two anyway, that this plan would make them quickly rich.

Unlike the nearly bony Carrot, MacDougal was built much like a wall, and from reports only slightly less intelligent than such a structure. He had tried out and been accepted for the city watch but had been drummed out in initial training for issues of education, namely not knowing his left from his right, breaking his training weapons, and instead of saying 'yes sir' in response to an order from his officer he beat the giver nearly unto death. Most people agreed the standards for the militia were just a tad too high for MacDougal.

In a city the size of Il'Aluk approximately three to five bodies are buried per day, not counting of course those that are dumped in the sewers or disposed of in other manners. That number may increase dramatically at times such as in the winter months or after a coup is discovered by the Kargat but either way it was a reasonably steady amount of work for the city employees who dug and refilled graves.

Based on his size, MacDougal had no trouble securing part time work digging extra graves since on some occasions they tended to fill up rather more quickly than had been planned for. This gave him reason to be in the graveyard facility and watch where individual customers were dropped off likely for their last time.

Carrot on the other hand worked the other angles. He would use his thieving skills to get close to the mourners and thereby appraise the likely value of the one being interred. His red hair tended to often get him noticed but few people challenged his reason for attending semi-private ceremonies, assuming he worked for the cemetery in some capacity by his quiet observing demeanor as well by the dirt on his clothes and hands.

Generally for the first year or so the plan of robbing the dead went well for the pair. Carrot would identify the two most likely profitable picks for their nightly efforts and it would be up to MacDougal in a single night with his shovel to uncovered the coffins and rebury them without anyone else becoming the wiser. During this time Carrot would maintain lookout and inform his friend when battle was required, as the pair were often intruding upon the feeding grounds of ghouls and other unpleasant things.

The money the duo made, minus of course the cut that their fence took out, was enough to keep the two eating twice per day and still having enough for a few ales in the morning before falling into their beds. On very profitable mornings they would splurge and hire local desperate talent to fall into bed with them as well.

Things turned for the better when on one of their nightly forays the two ran across another body snatcher who had staked out the same claim. MacDougal tried to discourage this man physically and when he found himself unable to move because he was caught in a spell he suddenly realized the competition was a mage or priest of no little skill.

Carrot negotiated, primarily for their lives, but came away with the interred jewelry since the grave robber was only seeking the body. The sometime thief was even wise enough to ask upon learning this if there was much profit to be made in securing such objects. In truth his question was 'what would it be worth to you for my friend and I to deliver these bodies when you need them rather than you digging them up yourself?' The price he was quoted involved the word gold. From that point on a new, if slightly illegal, business began to flourish after hours in the graveyard of Il' Aluk.

One might be surprised to learn but there were more than just one or two customers in need of such things, though few needed an inventory supply of greater than a single product per month. Supposedly the standard fee for delivery of said item was twenty five gold pieces, a price surprising in that it was the exact same price Professor Westridge had quoted to us during this morning's anatomy class fiasco. Sources for our stories did seem to indicate those who bought in bulk would receive a discount if they ordered ahead and could accept small quantities of regular deliveries.

It appears, from what the three of us could piece together, that Harmon and I were actually inadvertently responsible for the death of Carrot and MacDougal in that our destruction of the zombie years ago had led to an investigation by the university and then the city watch to determine where this corpse had been acquired. The college's regular supplier, while being 'interviewed' by a member of the Kargat, identified his own suppliers as the grave robbing pair who were soon apprehended, tried, executed, and buried in the same graveyard they had been robbing now for years. Justice is often strange in Darkon.

Regardless of what approach we three tried, no one seemed to know of any partners the pair had nor of anyone who had taken up their business even though there was an apparent market not being serviced at this time. A few locals were said to have tried to pick up these skills but they each were found dead, killed and partially eaten by ghouls which is a significant job hazard for this particular line of work.

We next went to seek out those who were responsible for operating and maintaining the cemetery and while I expected these people to be a closed mouth lot where potential problems in their working environment may exist, they surprisingly were instead as totally open and forthright as any people I have ever met.

When we asked them about Carrot and MacDougal they told us much the same story as the locals had without any additional useful information. While interesting for confirming background of other sources this in no way moved us any closer to the answers to today's incident.

"What if anything can you tell me about the local process you take for the bodies to be delivered to the university?" I asked two of their number expecting again to be dodged.

"Surely I can tell you everything." The first of the two said. "When people agree to donate or rather sell their body to the college, they get a black snake tattoo on the back of their left hand. When we lay out the bodies for burial we always look for this. When we find it on corpses these bodies are set apart so they do not get accidentally buried with all the others."

"Is it possible for a non donor to end up in the same grouping?" Harmon asked.

"It is possible only if he or she dies with a similar tattoo in that location." The second said.

"In all my years I have never heard of such a thing." The first followed up and even I had to admit it was a rather far fetched idea. If you are gong to get that tattoo there, you might as well collect the twenty five gold pieces in the process.

"Could someone add the tattoo to a person's body after they died?" Chanella asked.

"It is always possible." The first said again. "But why do this since we tend to have more such volunteers than the school actually collects every month anyway. These extra have to be buried so why go to all the trouble to take one that is not a volunteer?"

That was a good point as well. We asked to see where the bodies were temporarily stored and to my amazement they took us out to a weather beaten warehouse and showed us two piles of wooden coffins, most of which were occupied at the moment. The smaller grouping consisted of a half of a dozen or so bodies that each carried the tattoo of a volunteer for the university. Supposedly they would be delivered tomorrow if the pair could get their broken wagon wheel fixed.

The larger group numbered over thirty coffins filled and another dozen unfilled that were waiting to be buried, or in the latter case filled and then buried. I asked why there was such a backlog, at least six days worth of digging if the stories I heard were true. The pair explained that a few nights back one of their number had been killed bringing the wagon back after dark. He too had been the victim of a ghoul attack who had also so startled the horses that they had bolted back for the stables across the grounds rather than along the road and eventually broke the wagon's axel.

Our numbers that we counted though seemed to strike a chord in the second employee's memory and he immediately went to check up on the records and found that the second pile was short by almost ten bodies from what it was supposed to hold. While some may have been buried already since the crews were trying to catch up on the backlog, the few days of rain last week had barely allowed them to keep apace of new arrivals. If it was thanks to their crews, both guys we spoke to were glad to see some headway on the pile was finally being made at least.

Harmon gave me a look and we soon thanked the men and departed noting that they sealed the warehouse up with a rather rudimentary lock, but then again it's not like they were guarding the royal treasury of the Wizard-King Azalin Rex or anything. We left in their company saying we wanted to talk to their diggers but then paused once we were out of the pair's sight so we might talk in private.

"I take it you are thinking similar thoughts to me?" Harmon asked with a suspicious smile.

"That we stumbled across the source of the ghost's body but not the culprits behind the crime?" I responded to his nods. "Yes then we are in agreement."

"While I would like to find the guilty parties, I for one do not want to spend a night here in the graveyard though trying to catch and interrogate whoever has taken Carrot and MacDougal's place." His concern was obviously well founded and one that I also shared.

"I agree." I said and thought for a second with a long drawn out delay. "So let me describe to you a plan that I think meets our needs yet keeps us relatively safe none the less."

For the next ten minutes I did so, explaining each step along the way, how it was as safe as I could ensure it to be, and what I hoped would be the results. My companions listened carefully, neither one showing much excitement at my plan.

"I won't do it!" Chanella said in a huff. "You gave me the worst possible role."

"I'll trade with you." Harmon said only slightly kidding. In truth both knew the trade was impossible if the plan was to succeed, but still this fact did not make either of them happy. Finally Chanella gave in to the idea, saying that I owed her for this and she would find a way to make me pay her back for robbing her of any real excitement. I nodded and sent her on her was as I turned to Harmon.

"As I said earlier, I am always surprised to see what type of trouble I can get in the middle of standing next to you Van Richten!" He said with a laugh.

"Just make sure you are standing next to me alright?" We both laughed at the appropriate play on words and once we were certain Chanella had performed her role, we did as well what was required of us too. One way or another we would know who was behind these crimes and hopefully why one of our professors had to die.

The grave robbers did their nightly scouting in the cemetery of Il' Aluk making sure they were free to practice their trade without interruption, observation, or competition. Thankfully the others that had tried to pick up this trade after the hangings of Carrot and MacDougal were quickly and permanently discouraged from doing so and served as a warning to any others who might also be so inclined as to try their own hand at this occupation. So far these vivid examples the grave robbers had orchestrated had served their purposes well in this regard.

Of course there were still the ever present undead to occasionally deal with and those tended to fall into two separate categories. The mindless types that had to be destroyed only when they were ordered to attack or defend something, and the cognizant types like ghouls and revenants that had to be taught to mind their own business as well or they also would be destroyed. Thankfully most of these undead creatures learned to stay out of the pair's way even faster than the living did. Of course they could not be left lying around as examples because the undead were usually consumed rapidly by others of their kind, but still the point was made.

Finding no evidence of danger, and four newly filled graves made the pair happy and they recorded their locations for later times. Again tonight though the pair chose to raid the storage warehouse for their materials since it was far easier to get their goods there without having to go through the long and tiring process of digging. If things remained this easy the two might have to even find other regular ways to entertain themselves for the rest of their evenings from now on.

The door to the warehouse was locked as usual but it was barely an effort for an accomplished lock picker who had himself and his partner inside door in less than a minute. He smiled at his partner, which he always did any time he could show his superior skills. His partner completely ignored his display just like he did every time the thief made it.

The pair did a quick count and both were satisfied again that still thirty or more bodies were stacked up in here waiting to be buried. Had they known how easy damaging the cemetery wagon would make their workload they would have arranged for one of the diggers and his wagon to be taken out of commission years ago simply for sake of convenience. Heck the pair could also have even done this in such a way as to sell off the body of the digger making no one the wiser and leaving his family instead to always wonder what had happened to him.

Their orders for tonight were to make sure at least a dozen bodies were ready to ship out to the college in the morning. In truth the school would on their paper records take only four of these though in truth their wagon would hold eight when it left the cemetery. By the time it actually reached the college four of these coffins and their occupants would no longer be on board. Meanwhile the cemetery staff would report that for another month straight the college actually had left over bodies so they would avoid any suspicion by the authorities. In Darkon such things as missing bodies and what they were to be used for were of special interest to the Kargat which is what had let to Carrot and MacDougal's trip to the gallows.

Lamps still burned inside the warehouse, meaning the cemetery staff had been careless about the time of day and had to rush to depart the cemetery before dark. Since the lamps had no chance to accidentally start a fire it was understood the cost of wasted lamp oil was a fair price to pay to ensure one's safety. At least this would make looking at the new bodies easier for the two of them and marking the appropriate ones with tattoos was always much simpler when the pair was able to see clearly what they were doing. There were candles available as well, but usually those were only used when a close up look at a body was required and the living people involved did not feel like lugging a coffin over to the closest suspended lamp.

The duo started with the last pair on the line, still standing on end since of course they took up less floor space that way. Stacking coffins was not feasible because it was important for smell sake to ensure the oldest got buried first. By stacking this would require the grave diggers to have to move all the coffins to get to the oldest. By standing them all on end and spaced apart in pairs, any one could be reached and maneuvered by a pair of diggers outside onto a waiting wagon without having to rearrange any of the others.

For the pair of body snatchers it allowed them to pop off the coffin lids, which were not yet nailed down anyway, and find the best choices, not so fresh meat as it were, to fill their order. They could then apply the tattoo ink and the pair move the coffin from one side of the room to the other. If the staff got suspicious in the morning they could check out the volunteers' group and see that they did all actually have the necessary tattoo so obviously more volunteers had been dropped off at some point.

With just a gentle pull of their hands the pair yanked free the first coffin lid and saw the body of a young dandy before their eyes. Obviously his family was one of the rich of Darkon for they had apparently requested that he be embalmed which gave his skin a sickly waxy color that looked unhealthy. Unfortunately this meant they could not use this body to sell since the injection of the embalming fluid ruined the body for its medical purposes.

The turned to the other coffin and pulled its lid off as well finding the same situation, though this time the embalmed appeared more middle classed. The bright red spot on the center of his shirt showed though how this one had died from some sort of piercing into the heart most likely.

Had the dandy killed this other, for the current class of nobles seemed to think the foil was a proper weapon and such a blade may have made this mark in the shirt. The thief looked closer and saw a glint of silver through that hole and smiled. At least they would get something from this pair. He reached his hand up to seize the charm and stumbled back in pain clenching his hand as smelling a burning of ozone.

While I had not expected my gypsy charm to have such an effect on the undead I cannot say I was unhappy with the result. Lying in that coffin for hours in silence and with hardening candle wax on my face left me little to do but think over all the many ways this plan I had devised on the fly could go drastically wrong. At least I was rested and prepared when the noise came from the pair walking around in the warehouse at first and then especially once they began the opening of Harmon's coffin that stood right beside my own, just as I had asked him to.

Having been in the dark, and trust me the inside of a coffin is pitch black, it took a few precious moments for my eyes to adjust to the even dim light once my opponent had instinctively stepped back so he might literally lick his wounds. I noted first he sported bright orange, though currently very dirty, hair on his head, face, and arms as well. I then noticed his eyes were sickly yellow, glowing though with the power of undead life.

My hands held both my dagger and a vial of holy water and I used the latter item first, smashing the hardened clay flask on the top of the ghoul's head while lifting the dagger up between us to impale him if he came any closer to me. "Kill them Harmon!" I screamed, now more worried at my plan falling completely apart and the pair of us being killed in the process than finding answers to th mystery that had brought us here.

My plan had assumed that other thieves had taken over for Carrot and MacDougal after their death and that through this ruse we could pull weapons on them and in exchange for their lives they would tell us about what was happening with the bodies and perhaps even why Professor Henry had been killed. The fact that the grave robbers and body snatchers we faced were the original Carrot and MacDougal who now appeared to be ghouls threw my entire plan right out the window.

Thankfully for Harmon my scream and the breaking of a vial of holy water on the head of Carrot caused MacDougal to turn and look at the pair of us rather than the 'corpse' in the coffin before him. He only realized his real danger when he noted movement and turned back just in time to look down the barrel of Harmon's wheel lock pistol. A click of the trigger being pulled, along a sound similar to steel being run along flint was the half second warning MacDougal before the spark created lit off the powder and the lead projectile was released to go flying toward its target.

It entered MacDougal's face just below the nose but was still travelling upwards at an angle until it eventually removed the entire back of the ghoul's head. Unlike zombies and skeletons who can actually shake off such wounds, ghouls require their heads and this damage was enough to permanently kill this one just as my second vial of blessed water smashed upon an already blind and dying Carrot killed him as well.

We looked at each other with a neutral expression for while. We were overjoyed to be alive after so potentially dangerous an encounter but we still were left in even worse straight than we had been this afternoon with a long series of questions and now with no potential leads to these answers. All I knew was like a disease performed on a host body, something evil and hidden had infected the College of Medicine and it seemed to be slowly biding its time right beneath the surface of our consciousness. It sought to corrupt or even kill the good that school might do. Most students and faculty were oblivious to this and likely would actively choose to remain so.

But just like a disease, thankfully there were now a pair of near doctors monitoring the case. If a cure for this situation could be found, then Harmon and I would do it.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Summer of Year 691 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 12_**

The rest of my junior year went off without more additional excitement though now that Harmon and I had learned the source behind how the bodies came to the university we were on guard and watchful for other things that also seemed out of place. It was good that there were the four of us in the know, we had of course told Chanella and Tess everything, so that we could not be easily self deluded into thinking that everything we encountered that did not make immediate sense to us or seemed odd was somehow part of a this big underlying conspiracy that we were now suspicious of.

For example Master Professor Gunther continued to treat Harmon and me with just enough respect to not be considered outright contempt for us. It would have been easy for us two to rationalize that this was because he was the source of the college's troubles but Tess was quick to explain he was merely a cantankerous old bastard, her words and not a reflection upon his true parentage as far as I know, and that such behavior was not odd for him. In this way we tried to keep focused only on those events we could not truly find a logical answer for, such as the murder of Professor Henry.

And In doing all of this we modified and practiced those very skills that we were being taught here at the college, namely we observed and recorded possible symptoms as we tried to diagnose the actual ailment taking place inside these walls.

My personal life changed as well somewhat over the winter months when Ingrid wrote me and said that her mother had taken a fall on ice that year and now had trouble walking. I had come home over the weekend again by renting another, actually the very same, horse and with a quick check determined that Elsa had not broken anything but was suffering from a bad bone bruise that would likely take a month or more to fully heal. As she was not one to let Ingrid of my aunt take care of her except on days it really hurt that one month stretched to two. Ingrid kept me informed every other week on her progress through letters and I sent suggested cures back as well.

What we both came quickly to realize though was that her mother was advancing in age and while she might still claim to be healthy, she was actually getting closer to fifty. I read between the lines that my bride to be was worried she would have no family left by the time of our wedding which was scheduled for after my graduation, so I settled the issue by asking her to marry me this upcoming summer instead. Thankfully her answer was an immediate yes which took up the entire first page of the responding letter.

I had requested her to keep the idea to herself and that next weekend in early spring I came home again via horse, I was now actually considering buying this faithful animal I referred to as Tasha, so that we could tell Elsa and my aunt together. Thankfully between the two of us we were able to restrain her mother from literally jumping up for joy, though my aunt did enough of that for the two of them and almost landed herself in bed for a hip injury as well. Needless to say our idea was approved by our families.

The pair of them made the announcement to the town that very same day, something we had overlooked in our personal happiness, and Ingrid and I immediately found ourselves as the center of attention and the guests of honor at a village party quickly planned for that night. Please keep in mind this had little to do with me. I ascribe this to the fact that my father had been well respected, Ingrid was well loved (and pursued) by the village, the weather had turned warm, and our village's primary inhabitants were halflings who took any excuse to have a party and these criteria were enough for them.

Both Ingrid and I consumed a little too much wine that day, something I had not done since my trip to Lamordia so many years earlier, and were feeling quite relaxed and warm in each other's love by the time we returned home together that evening. Our kisses which had been just slightly more than chaste and proper at the event, now turned rather more passionate. It was only with the greatest of willpower on my part that we did not take our wedding vows early, so to speak. Let it never be said that there is any greater temptation than a woman's desire for her man.

I returned to college and my studies that week, often distracted by these memories, but still disciplined enough to ensure I was learning what I needed to. My alternate week letters from Ingrid did not do much to help me concentrate though they did keep me up to date on the health of her mother, which was thankfully improving, and the events taking place in the village in preparation for our marriage.

The spring party had been such an enjoyable event that the village elders had decided to throw us an involved wedding as well figuring the reception party would have to be even better than the announcement was. Part was said to be in honor of my intention to return as a doctor and serve the community since we had no true physician, but halflings do not need any real excuses for merriment. Whatever the true cause Ingrid found herself the center of attention throughout the community for the next few months.

All three of the town tailors had decided to work together to create her the most beautiful dress along with ones for her mother and my aunt as well which I got bi-weekly updates on their production but which Ingrid never actually described to me since it was considered bad luck. I also had directions to come home at least two weeks before the wedding so I could be measured for my own wedding clothes which I hoped would not be a fourth dress by the way she seemed so excited by the first three.

Ingrid also told me she was regularly stopped by villagers who wished her well in her upcoming marriage and offered advice on how to make her husband happy. Ingrid left updates on this advice purposefully vague so that I was required to ask after them in my own next letters which she somehow never actually answered anyway. When I pressed the issue she then explained that the advice had universally been various cooking recipes. She teasingly asked if that is all men required from their young wives was just an ability to set a good table. I sent my own answer back saying it depended upon how good of a cook she already was. Here next letter was teasingly brief and told me in no uncertain terms to expect porridge for breakfast lunch and dinner.

Ingrid also said that all the bustle in the village for our upcoming wedding was even noticed by strangers who were just passing through our village. One woman who left the strongest impression as was by Ingrid description an older foreign woman of stunning beauty, even sought my love out upon hearing of her and proclaimed before the town that Ingrid was the loveliest bride to be she had ever seen. She followed this up saying such a wife deserved only a loving and honest husband. I am happy to report my Ingrid immediate exclaimed that these virtues were my own and that pleasantly satisfied the two talked for a long time about my caring nature and my desire to become a doctor to heal others. The woman smiled at Ingrid's stories and answers and said then she offered her own prayers for our success, making my bride to be suspect this woman had been a priestess of some sort.

Spring progressed and my studies started to come to a close for this year as well. Of our original class of twelve only seven still remained, the two that had quit after the zombie incident were joined by three who could not keep up the necessary academic standards regardless of the donations their families made to university. Harmon and I remained the top two students academically and still despised by the rest of the class and some, but not all, of the faculty. With no false modesty I do think some of the latter resented that we were actually nearly as good in our medical knowledge as they were and we were still merely students not actually doctors.

While we still studied often together Harmon received a mysterious letter and was called home for a two week period so I found myself without my normal ally in class. I spent much of my free time during those two weeks in the library with Tess and/or Chanella depending upon which of them decided to work that day. Since I already was assured of passing my finals regarding the various curatives, I decided to spend more energy expanding my knowledge in the more general subjects that their level contained since that allowed me to spend time on Tess's floor.

It was during this period that I noticed a dark haired beautiful girl, who was obviously not from Darkon, or at least those parts which I was familiar, also studying on the same floor. At first we merely acknowledged the other such as when we need to pass by in the cramp aisles between shelves, or she might ask my assistance in reaching a book above her grasp. After a time we even went so far as to actually say hello upon first seeing each other in the library, which I assure you made her far more sociable by this simple action than almost any other student here in the school.

I found it odd that now and then my thoughts would wander to her, not because of her beauty, which I will say in all honesty there was an abundance of, but because I sensed something different about her and I could not determine what it is. That thought nagged in me much like a loose tooth that I could not stop wiggling.

It did not help that sometimes as I was deeply immersed in study of one of my books that I would get a sudden feeling of her presence and look up to find her looking my way and once caught then turning away shyly. I did not see that it was flirting, surely not, but rather she had her own interest in me as well, like we recognized each other but could not place from where. I knew that to be ridiculous of course since there was no way anyone who saw this woman could ever forget her.

I asked both Tess and Chanella about her casually but this being a busy time for other students meant the two were often kept hopping by finding the books that student required to be reviewed further, or for the first time in some cases of those who were not taking their studies seriously, before the upcoming finals for that year. Neither of my friends recognized who I was speaking of by my simple description and I hardly felt comfortable telling them, since they both knew I was engaged to marry soon, that this stranger was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I was resigned to have to figure out these answers all by myself rather than face this embarrassment.

I believe my chance came early in the following week when I was once more in the library studying a book on the properties of various metals. Since I had come to understand that metals like silver had some unique effect over certain types of undead I wondered if there were other base metals and alloys that had a similar or even more powerful effect. The book I was looking was however a text on the proper forging of such metals not on their properties but it was my hope to find some similarity in their creation process might be the catalyst for their unique abilities to affect undead.

As you can imagine from my description it was not in truth a fascinating or intriguing subject of study and it allowed my mind to wander away quite easily. I am happy to report that almost all of my time went to thinking of my Ingrid who had reported just this week that the mayor of Rivalis herself was going to officiate at our wedding ceremony. We would also be offered blessings by the towns two most notable priests, the family and fertility goddess of the halflings whose power in these spheres was evident in our hometown, and the new shrine to the healing goddess Erza that was growing in popularity among the human resident of Rivalis.

I had turned back forcefully to my studies once more, determined to get though this section on cold-forged iron, when that familiar sensation of being watched began to tingle at the base of my neck once more. I turned and was not particularly surprised to see the same strange and enticing young woman whose name I still did not know catch my eye momentarily and then return to whatever book she was looking at while sitting at table off to the side and away from everyone else. I decided then and there that I was going to learn at least something about her.

I stood up and closed my book, cold-forged iron would simply have to wait for another time, and strode slowly but purposefully toward her table. She kept her eyes looking downward at her book but I sense she was aware of my approach none the less by the subtle change in her posture to one a little more tense.

"Excuse me." I whispered politely as we were in a library. "But I have the oddest feeling that I know you." Over the past few days I had thought over what the best course of action in talking to this woman would be and decided like almost everything in my life I would trust honesty to be the proper starting point and see where it led.

"That is hardly an original line." She said back without taking her eyes from the page before her. I could hear more than a little annoyance in her dismissive tone as well.

I suddenly realized that while my statement had indeed been honest it was also open to interpretation as an opening bid to seduce her. I had no doubt that her beauty brought many such offers, likely more than she desired, but such of course was not my intention. I scrambled to get out of this closing hole that I had made for myself.

"My apologies but I truly meant nothing by my words beyond their meaning that you appear somehow familiar to me." I tried again to make my point but she only continued to read. "I had hoped you might help me understand why I feel this but I can see I am merely distracting you from your studies so I will apologize again and leave you to them." I bowed slightly and turned to go.

"Are you also so easily dissuaded from your course?" She asked making me turn as she lifted her eyes from the page before her and I got to look into them for the very first time at such close range and not merely in passing.

They were amber in color and sparkled in the light or in response to her laughter and smiles. Her hair was long, straight, and deep black and her skin was a light chocolate with the texture of fine porcelain. She was undoubtedly stunning on any category of beauty one might chose to rate her and this in and of itself made me feel she was cold and unapproachable, like the holy avatar of some divine goddess.

"My course was seeking knowledge." I said. "It is obvious though that it is my singular pursuit so I need not burden you or take you away from your studies in the process."

"My studies are not nearly so important or at the moment all that entertaining either so I do not mind the distraction." She answered. "In fact in honesty I too have found you oddly intriguing as well." She replied showing me the first hints of that lovely smile of pure white teeth and the warm effect this had upon her eyes.

"I am Rudolph.." I started.

"…Rudolph Van Richten, yes I know." She said. "I have heard much about you from a rather informed source." The smile now had an element of mystery to it and struck me on a base internal level. I must admit I do love an intellectual challenge.

"I can only hope that this source was fair in their representation of me good lady." I said with just a hint of a laugh. "I know there are many who would not be so objective in there reviews."

"Oh I assure you she was nothing if not praising." The stranger replied making me realize I still had not asked her name.

"And may I ask who this informed source was since I have so few admirers miss…" I paused to let her answer both questions.

"Ashanti." She replied. "My name is Ashanti. As for my source I will not answer since a woman should have her confidences. But are you such a young man who has a such a vast bevy of female admirers that you are unable to determine who might wish to speak your praises?" The smile, now fuller also played with a touch of wicked danger.

In truth there were only three such females here at the university that might have offered a good word about me that I was aware. Tess and Chanella of course, though neither immediately admitted to recognizing Ashanti from my earlier description but then again I would not put it past either to forget a simple conversation due to the numbers of people who regularly spoke to them and required their assistance.

The third female who may have spoken well of me was Professor Westridge though that was hardly a certainty. I still did not have a handle upon our relationship for while she always seemed to support me when I was conflict with Master Professor Gunther, at other times I was merely an entertainment to her. Could she have spoken well about me to Ashanti? Perhaps, if the conversation had been about spirits but I doubted this was a likely scenario. This review of those females I knew here at the college left me as unsure as when I originally asked the question.

Had she said her source was a man then I would have known it to be Harmon, as he is the only male here in the college that would likely have a fair and positive word about me. Knowing this I tried instead a different approach hoping perhaps to piece together clues.

"Are you a student of the College of Medicine or do you attend one of the other colleges?" I asked though I was certain I would have noted if she lived in our dormitory or ever dined in our college cafeteria. She also struck me as being a few years older than myself but I could chalk that off to entering school at an older age than I had which was far more normal.

"No I would never make a successful doctor." She laughed so loud that I expected the others sitting nearby to offer us looks or words of disapproval but a quick glance by me around the immediate area showed no one preparing to do so or even having heard her. I could only assume since most of them were males that Ashanti's beauty bought her more considerations than the rest of us could expect.

We chatted for a while more until she stretched and yawned, apologizing and making sure to say that she was not bored with me but rather that she needed to head back to her room and rest. Being a gentleman and without any less than honorable intentions I offered to see her to her residence. In truth this would allow me to hopefully learn by this which college she was attending in the process. But of course my plans never seem to work out quite so well in their execution.

"Why do you not let me see you to your dorm instead?" She said and I figured she wanted to not be seen having a man, most likely one who was an outcast in the eyes of most of the college, walk her back to her room and then have to explain this event to others. I nodded understanding the unspoken request and we departed. Surprising to me as we left none of the other people seated in the library even turned to look as we departed which for me was the norm so not all that unique. But the fact that none of the men's eyes followed Ashanti still surprised me.

We talked more as we walked and Ashanti slid her arm in mine which made me feel very conscious of myself and even more so of her. I will not say that this in any way was interpreted by me as intimate but beyond the kisses I had shared with Ingrid it was the most contact I had with a female of approximately my own age. Were it not for my engagement burning vividly in my mind I am not at all certain that I would have known what to do or what to say at this point.

"Rudolph!" A familiar voice of Harmon called to me from across the courtyard.

"Well I will leave you to your friend." Ashanti said unlatching her arm from mine and turning away. "Try to think kindly of me?" She smiled demurely and turned before I could answer.

"Of course." Is all I could say confused by the way this evening had progressed.

I must admit that I was expecting to hear some good natured ribbing from Harmon at the woman on my arm. In truth I now realized how such a thing might have looked and how the image might have broken Ingrid's heart had she seen it. Thankfully she had not but I still felt guilt over having let it take place. Now I would pay for it.

"I was looking for you but I guess you were busy." Harmon said nearly running across the courtyard to me.

"I can explain it was…" I started.

"Yes I know you were at the library." He laughed. "Like you would be anywhere else?"

"Well true but I went there only to study…"

"Like I or anyone else here in this university could possibly think there was any other reason!" He laughed. "But enough of that I needed to find you to tell you that my message of an emergency at home had been a lie!" He said these words with a growl of anger in his voice that I had never heard him express before.

In truth I could hardly doubt him. The fact that the note had been dropped of with the college clerk who said he found it on his desk and it was not signed by anyone had originally made the two of us suspicious as to its origins. But when such a missive tells you that members of your family are in dire straights and require you to return home do you really take a chance and ignore it when it could in fact be the truth. I know I could never live with having failed to help those I cared about if they asked for my aid. Harmon was every bit as decent in this regard as me.

Now though with this new information I had to wonder who was behind such a devious plan and more importantly what they had hoped to achieve through its execution. Harmon was the most accomplished student of our class, edging me out in tests by a few points, but he greatly outperforming all the others. It was conceivable that one or more of the other students had targeted him with this prank in order to make him miss a test or two while he was gone. He would not fail, but at least it might make the overall class performance a closer thing. That fortunately for him had not occurred since we had taken no tests so if that had been their intention then their plan had borne no fruit for them to suckle upon.

A more devious option was that someone had meant to do him harm on the trip home. We considered this and carefully ran through all the encounters he had on the five day trip each direction but there was nothing even remotely out of order that would seem to suggest such an attempt had been made. He had not even heard of highwaymen or other travelers encountering problems anywhere on that trip.

A third option was that this was somehow tied to the death of Professor Henry and our own subtle investigations into the problems surrounding the College of Medicine but that too did not make sense based on the facts. The reason in that case would have been to have an opportunity to search Harmon's room but I found out that he used a rather ingenious trick of placing a hair on his door and doorframe when he was out to see if anyone had entered without his permission. He said the hair was right where he had left it and nothing in the room seemed to have been touched.

Try as the two of us might, we just could not come up with a reason why this deception had been performed upon him. At best it was a simple act of pettiness and if this was the best they had to offer then we decided that we were not going to spend any additional time worrying about it.

For the next week Harmon and I were nearly inseparable, in fact on at least three of those nights when one of us fell asleep in the chair studying in the other's room. This year's finals were meant to be the most difficult because it was the last of the academics. Starting next year we would begin diagnosis of treatments on real patients as a class. But to get to this stage you had to demonstrate you had not forgotten any of the academic theory you had learned in the previous three years.

Thankfully I will say while we refreshed our minds over the various courseware subjects we had been introduced to over the previous semesters, our mental faculties did not let us down. We easily recalled details from our first year discussions with very little additional study required.

Harmon told me that it was his personal goal to not have any answer wrong on the final exam. Personally I though this was an overly ambitious goal as the highest score to date had been four hundred and fifty three questions right out of five hundred asked. Passing was three hundred and I would be happy with four hundred, but Harmon argued me into even higher goals by asking what type of doctor did I want to be if I settled for one out of five of my patients dying because I did not know the proper answers to their ailments. I note that was not his reasoning for pushing himself for he had already said his intention was to go into performing further research rather than actual practice, but he did know by this time how to motivate me.

I saw Ashanti only one time in the library during that week of study and wanted to go up and speak to her before Harmon joined me for another night of review but Chanella interrupted me with a call to help her pull down a rather large and dusty volume off a top shelf that was said to be a collection of bard's tales which was her current favorite topic of interest to read. By the time Chanella and I returned Ashanti had already left and Harmon was now sitting in the chair she had vacated.

I resigned myself solely back to my studies again and banished Ashanti from my mind so that Harmon and I might practice naming all the bones and muscle groups in the human body. After that exercise we began our challenge of asking which of these differed in the anatomy of dwarves, elves, gnomes, and halflings since along with humans these races make up the majority peoples in our land and for me would likely be patients.

The day of our final exam came and while I was nervous at first, once I settled down and actually began to read the questions the answers came to me again and again. It took me nearly four hours to complete the process, six minutes more than Harmon, but more than two hours faster than any other in our class.

In the end Harmon did not actually succeed in getting every question right as he had desired. He missed one and blamed this on the poor way it was worded which since Darkonese was his second language I could not really fault him for. Surprisingly I actually got all the questions right, stunning both myself and all the professors, especially a certain Master Professor, but making Harmon, Tess, and Chanella very proud of me in the process. I wrote Ingrid that night and told her of my success ad thanking her for without a doubt she also was responsible. I signed that letter saying no man had ever been blessed with a better mate to be.

Harmon insisted that we go out that night and celebrate in a true Lamordian fashion. It had been seven long years since my trip to Lamordia and I had forgotten in that interim how Lamordians like to celebrate, namely with their fists around a mug of frosty ale. He also explained it was bad form for friends to let their companions drink alone or get too far ahead. I tried to caution him that Darkon was not a city without dangers at night, but we agreed to drink at the tavern on campus, possibly the highest profit making establishment this university had.

I wanted, truly, to restrain myself for I had known what it was like to become too far in my cups twice before but the combination of the celebratory spirit and Harmon's insistence that I stick with him worked passed my normal cautious reserves. One might say that I allowed this to happen because I wanted it to, but I am cautious where the customs of other lands are involved. I certainly did not want to insult my friend in his ceremony because just that morning before the test had begun I had asked Harmon to stand as my witness at my wedding to Ingrid and he had accepted.

We were hardly the only ones celebrating completion of our studies for that year because the tavern was nearly wall to wall people throughout the night downing their own glasses in celebration or in misery based on the individual results of their examinations. I looked around on occasion hoping to see Ashanti celebrating as well to offer her congratulations or condolences on her results but she was not ever in sight that I could see.

By the time Harmon and I finally left the tavern, each with an arm around the other for support, I was not feeling good, I was merely feeling nothing at all. We were hardly the only ones in this state. In fact one of our classmates was so far out of his ability to make rational judgments that he actually bought a round of drinks for Harmon and me offering his praises, of all things, for our performance over the past years. This so shocked my drinking companion and I that we literally sobered back up three stages or so making Harmon immediately order two more rounds so we could get back to where we had been rather than have to talk about this incident.

We finally made it to the dormitories, though the steps were nearly the death of us and at one point seemed to me to be almost as comfortable as my own bed so might work as a convenient substitute until such time as I could gather my strength to finish my climb to my room. That recovery should take about a week or so by my estimation.

Harmon was of course there for me and somehow the two of us made it to the second floor where he even was able to set me before my door and ask to my wellbeing before turning away and seeking his own room further down the hall. I do not know the reason his overly concerned nature for I needed only to get the key from my pocket, and effort that took more than a minute, and insert it into the lock, which was damn near the death of me.

I let the door swing fully open before I tried to command my body to walk and found to my surprise that the last corner of my intellectual mind noted that a candle was still burning in my room. I tried to shake off the feeling of sleep going through my head and focus solely upon this fact for I know I never left a candle or any source of flame in my room when I departed for fear of the potential harm that it may cause others.

"Rudolph?" A warm and seductive voice called out from across the room in the still mostly dark areas where my bed sat. I turned to look and noted Ashanti sitting upon it wearing only the flimsiest night clothes of nearly see through silk. Her body seemed nearly ethereal in this attire and while my senses were adjusting to this I cannot say the sight of her was the most enchanting that I had ever witnessed.

"I wanted to spend this one night with you before your wedding." She said with a bit of a pout on her lips and a look bordering on fear of being rejected. My mind that had been clouded by drink and confused by what I saw now seemed to clear up of its own. Some part of my mind said we had been attracted to each other from the moment our eyes had met so who was I to deny her this moment she asked for? We were both adults and capable of making such choices were we not?

There is an old wives tale about how the over consumption of strong drink inhibits other performance capabilities, I believe it is something like 'wine doth create the desire but removith the capability.' Let me speak as a medical man and someone who now was able to first hand test this theory that it is certainly not true in all situations. While I had been attracted to others most specifically Ingriud, never had my desire for a single woman been so strong as it was currently.

It was as if a wild beast was now within me battling my mind for release. It was seeking sustenance after so many years of being starved and denied and now before it was placed a meal of delicacies. The beast would be denied no longer!

"Oh YES my love please take me." Ashanti stood up and held her arms open to me. I could see similar desire burning within her eyes as well. It was something not rationale, but simply primal and basely animalistic. It was something we had evolved away from but still carried inside of us, waiting, nay begging, to be released in such events. Now at this moment while I stood in the doorway the beast within had been set free.

"I am yours my love." Her words were now soft and seductive though she stepped no closer to me. I knew that she needed me to show her that I wanted her as well. She required me to stride boldly across the floor and sweep her up into my arms and onto my bed. I knew this and raised my foot for the first such step when a hand appeared upon my shoulder.

I turned to find Harmon standing beside me, his hand the one on my shoulder, with a questioning look in his eyes. "My friend what is it you do?" He asked seeking the rationale beyond the beast.

"Leave me Harmon." The beast growled. Perhaps he wanted to make more of an argument and tell my friend that moments such as these need to be seized when they arrived now passed by and regretted for the rest of one's life. A part of me thought perhaps my friend is jealous, that here was the most desirable woman we had ever seen and she had asked for me, to join me in my bed, rather than him who I can admit is far more handsome and charming than I ever would be.

"Is that truly your desire my friend?" He asked again, not rising to the alpha male call men tend to have in such situations but instead meekly submitting and offering no personal challenge.

"Please Rudolph do not make me wait." Ashanti said from across the room but my friend did not even acknowledge her keeping his eyes focused solely upon me.

"Are you mad?" I asked pointing to her which he only paid a casual glance out of respect for me. "No one will get hurt my friend." I said that allowed though the beast within knew that was not completely true. Both Ashanti and I would feel pain and pleasure this night but we desired this on a baser level than I was willing to acknowledge to my friend.

"Perhaps one of us is mad my friend." He conceded though I understood the subtly of his message. "And the one to get hurt may not be the one standing here in this room." He said staring me in the eyes before taking his hand from my shoulder as a statement that he accepted the decision was my own to make and no one else's.

"My love?" Ashanti now merely whispered and I closed my eyes at the sound letting it run through my body.

But it was not her calling me by these words that warmed my chest and filled me full of emotion at that moment. Ashanti's voice had done this about two feet lower but she had not tapped my heart. There in its confines it was another who had called to me in a similar soft tone each time she addressed me and that single phrase made me feel like a king among men.

Images of my Ingrid burst into my mind and pushed back the beast even further into the confines within. Memories flooded across my memories, walks we had together, the touch and warmth of her hand when I held it in him own, the feel of her body when she comforted me, and finally the sweet taste of her kisses that we had shared. These were all promises of even greater treasures to come but I was a rich man for having even these already.

I thought then of our marriage that would be held in less than two weeks, and how lovely my bride to be was going to be. I thought of how the village was making this an event to rival all others. I thought of how proud I would be making my parents. But finally I thought of how Ingrid would feel were she ever to find out.

With teary eyes I looked once more at Ashanti standing all alluring in her nearly transparent bed gown with open desire for me upon her face. The beast roared in its desire for her, but in my mind it was merely a distant echo, like that of thunder off on the horizon, hidden behind the giggles and warm sunshine smile of my Ingrid.

"I love my Ingrid." I said letting my foot return to the floor where it had been rather than stepping forward toward her. Now other memories flooded through my mind as well of things I had done and read over the past few years and I realized what I now faced.

"I will not be like the others Ashe." I said calling the ghost by her real name rather than this alias she used. "Those men were wrong for what they did to you and the dreams of yours they destroyed." I made my voice hold sympathy but still keep its steel edge of reason.

"But how many other women's dreams have you destroyed by tempting their husbands to be?" I asked. "Have you not become the very evil that hurt you?"

The ghost was shocked by the enormity of this revelation. In the past Ashe had always thought of herself as an avenging angel, trying to prevent other women from going through the hurt she herself had when her dreams had been used against her. She had felt bitter, not only for being used by the band of rogues who had deceived her, but also by her own dreams that had betrayed her into a life of solitude waiting for the perfect man who never came. She chose to save other women this hurt of seeing their own dreams of happiness torn away by a man as well, never realizing though that most people do not seek perfection as the gateway to happiness.

When she had torn the lives away by tempting me from their brides she had taken away the very chance of happiness most were willing to settle for and gave them instead the same feelings of cool betrayal she had felt. In her years as a ghost trying to save other, Ashe could only wonder how many other broken hearted women like herself her actions had left in her wake.

"It is time to put your anger aside Ashe and move on to the next life." I said. "Perhaps in this one you will find the perfection you were denied but deserved in this one."

The ghost smiled timidly at me at first though I could see the darkness within her seemingly melt away at my words.

"Ingrid said you were not like other men." Ashe spoke in respect. I realized now that Ashe had been the strange and beautiful woman who Ingrid had wrote to me about coming to our village and talking with her about our coming marriage.

"Thank you for showing me the error of my ways Rudolph." Ashe the ghost now began to fade away the way I had seen the elven warrior do years before when he too went to his final rest. "Ingrid is truly blessed to have such a man. Enjoy every moment you have together for the never seem to last as long as you want them to."

And then she was gone, leaving me standing still in my doorway with Harmon by my side once more. I turned to him and offered my thanks for his moral support in my time of trial but he waived this off.

"How many times have I told you my friend that one never seems to know what type of trouble I can get into standing next to you Van Richten!" He said with a laugh once more before seeking his own bed.

I went to my own and dreamt that night of a lovely and alluring woman who beg for me to join her. I am happy to report here that the image in that dream was my own Ingrid.

For the romantics among you I will report that my wedding was all that I had ever expected it to be and more. In truth I'm a man of simple tastes and as long as I was standing beside Ingrid I would have been happy to be married by a wandering friar beneath a weeping willow tree. The result for me would have been the same in that I would be now sharing my life with my beloved for all times to come.

For Ingrid the ceremony though had a special significance that I as a man will likely never fully understand. She got to stand before the entire village dressed in a gown of white, a tradition we almost dishonored when I finally returned to Rivalis and she kissed me with a passion I had never felt in her before. The thought of having to delay the wedding to order a blue dress instead was the only thing that seemed to stay our actions and in that light I have no regrets.

Thereafter Harmon stayed with me in my house while Ingrid moved back in temporarily with her mother and my aunt. Though they were a bit crowded, she explained it was not only for propriety sake, but because she would need help and motherly advice before her wedding night as well. Her excuse fooled neither woman but they chose to say nothing about it that would be embarrassing to the bride to be.

I can state here with all honesty that upon seeing Ingrid for the first time as she walked down the pathway to join me before the mayor and the pair of priests that I had never seen a more beautiful and alluring woman in my life, not even Ashanti when she had been sitting in my bed wearing next to nothing. I nodded a silent thanks to Harmon again for not letting me make a mistake even though in the intervening weeks he had proven to me that I had been subject to her spell of charm not nearly a creature trapped by his own lusts. Whether this was true or merely a friend's gift to allow me to maintain my pride I still thanked him for these words.

There before the gods of both humans and halflings Ingrid and I were wed. I noted while some women cried for the beauty of the moment or their jealousy at Ingrid's happiness, none of that jealousy was because of me. They simply wished they too had such a storybook ceremony and were with the one they truly loved. And as I said I was content to know I would have the woman of my dreams beside me.

On the opposite side of that coin I did see many of the younger men of the village look at me with open admiration, not for the ceremony but because I had married the most desirable woman in the entire village. The hats that were tipped toward me were not only for our wedding success but an acknowledgment of my own victory over them. While I had never consciously thought of such things, the thought left me with an odd twinge of warmth that I never expected to feel. Others were jealous and envious of me. I had no idea just how to react to this except to thank the gods once more.

I did that one last time that night when Ingrid came with me back to the home that we now shared. When we closed the door and she turned for another kiss she noted the tears in my eyes.

"My love why are you sad?" She asked, concerned that in her enjoyment of the ceremony she had somehow hurt me.

I waved this off kissing the fingers on both her hands as I used them to wipe away my tear. "I am not sad my love." I replied. "I just never expected that I would ever feel this happy."

She smiled at me and took a moment to blow out the only candle we carried before wrapping her body close to mine. "I love you too my love." She said quietly and I knew all at that moment was right in the world. And I thought it could not get any better.

I was wrong in this, like I am in so many aspects of life. In the week before I was to leave and return for my final year of college I noted that Ingrid had become a bit changed in her personality toward me over the past few days. She was not any less loving only that she seemed very distracted. Furthermore she spent more time than usually with her mother and my aunt, which I admit made me a bit jealous in that our time together was rapidly passing by and I did not want to give away more of it than I had to.

With four days to go Ingrid returned more to normal and I figured whatever the cause of her concern had passed and we were again a newly wed couple in love. In fact we were more in love than even on our wedding night, though I attributed this to my imminent departure and regrets for being apart even before we were.

I did promise that I would rent Tasha every other weekend so that I might come home for a day whenever possible and this made her happy. I even suggested that she might come visit me for two weeks in the winter by riding with my merchant friend.

That idea receive lukewarm response even when I said she could stay with Tess and Chanella rather than in my cramped dorm room if it was an issue of not having enough space. She only said she would think about it as space might be an issue by then.

I knew she had talked about spending more time with my mother-in-law and aunt after I left to help them out and share the burden of a house during the winter months. I was of course okay with that as the home they lived in actually had three separate bedrooms anyway. Ingrid's room was on the opposite side of the house so there would be no embarrassing issues when I came home for the weekends either.

It was the two nights before I left when finally Ingrid came to me with a look of both happiness and apprehension in her eyes. I had no idea what would make her so hesitant around me but I knew somehow that it was better I saw nothing at first and let her speak her mind.

"Rudolph." She took my hand in her own and placed it on her belly. "You are going to be a father." For a long time I stood there smiling but unable to find any words that would express my feelings.

Finally I scooped my wife up into my arms and carried her to a place more private. I looked into he eyes and leaned down to kiss her and whispered softly in her ear. "You shall always be my beloved."


	14. Chapter 14

**The Fool**

**_Sometime in the Fall of Year 692 _**

**_Il' Aluk, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 13_**

It was only by the strangest of fates or the intervention of gods that for the first time in my college years I had overslept and in so doing I was not arrested with the others that morning. I had been enjoying a rather pleasant dream of my wife Ingrid, of which I will not provide any additional details beyond saying I truly missed her once we were forced to be apart for this final year of my studies and my mind, both conscious and subconscious strayed to thoughts of her whenever I had the chance. The dream that I had of her that morning was so delightful that I chose not to awaken with the dawn's light as I normally did and instead spend more time with her here asleep. I wonder if perhaps then I am the only one whose life has been saved by dreaming of his wife.

What did finally wake me up were shouts of warning and whistles blowing from right outside the dormitory. I pulled on some clothes and looked out my window to see the hauntingly familiar shapes of ghouls surrounding a small cadre of people on the campus. It was only then that I recalled I had made plans to meet with Tess, Chanella, and Harmon that morning to partake of a special breakfast that Ernie was preparing for the very first time. The cold feeling in the pit of my stomach made me wonder if perhaps my tardiness had possibly put my friends in danger.

I exited my room passing many of the other students who like me were trying to learn what was going on. Gossip of course was rampant in the whispers as I stepped passed them but I heard a few words repeatedly that made me concerned for my friends. Most notably were phrases of students and librarians arrested that seemed sufficient proof to my ailing stomach that my sixth sense was fully functioning. Worst of all though was the claim of 'Vistani' captured as well that truly made me worry.

While the others from our college stood crowded at the door, daring only to peek out through a crack so not to draw attention to themselves, whereas I pushed my way though the crowd, barreling over even one of my professors to exit the building and see for myself what had happened. There in the morning light I found just as I feared all three of my friends and an additional Vistani youth who could not be even ten years of age as of yet surrounded by a score or more of ghouls wearing all too familiar uniforms. The fear on the faces of my companions was evident to all and more than pleasing to General Athoul who stood of to the side admiring his success.

The General floated through the gap in the ring of undead bodies that his loyal soldiers made for him and ended up standing directly before the gypsy boy who to his credit stood fearful yet defiant at the approaching specter of death right in front of him.

"Your vagabond kind is forbidden upon penalty of death from entering these lands boy." General Athoul said with a sense of wicked glee in his voice. I remembered the fatal justice he had dealt out to others who had merely associated with the gypsies before but now I could see catching an actual Vistani was a rare treat to him that he planned to enjoy to the fullest and make the most of.

"Vistani walk on the paths we chose to." The boy trembled before the ghost's stare but to his acclaim he neither averted his eyes nor took a step back as his foe approached.

"Perhaps, but now this path for you led only to your grave." The General seemed angered that the boy did not grovel.

"If such is my fate then I accept it ghost!" The little firebrand had spunk. "At least my spirit shall wander free as a light feathered Vista-Chiri while you shall continue your enslavement for all time as a bodiless lackey for your king." He spat at General Athoul and as the saliva passed through the host it hissed and evaporated before even striking the ground. This made the ghost jolt as it struck physically, though of course being nothing more than a spirit that was impossible.

"What purpose brought you to this land youngling?" Athoul demanded to know now even more angry.

"None that any here but I can say." The boy offered back enraging the ghost even further. At a look from their commander two ghouls leapt into the circle and grabbed hold of the Vistani boy by his arms. Harmon began to offer assistance but a third backhanded him with a blow that knocked him from his feet and onto his back on the grass right before Chanella and Tess. Meanwhile without even noting Harmon's protest, General Athoul raised his hand to prepare to sink it into the boy's chest as I had seen him do years before. That image still haunted me but I could not turn away from the scene being played out before me without trying to aid my friends.

"Kill me ghost and the guilty one you seek will not be captured by you but instead fall victim to Vistani justice." The boy spoke prophetically and part of me believed that he truly new what he was saying was true. "Let me free and the true villain you seek and the plot against this land will be yours to discover for the pleasure of your king."

General Athoul seemed to hesitate as if he understood the options before him. "Ah what to do, what to do?" He asked aloud now sounding more deadly that fanciful. "In times like this I like to use the wisdom of the ages to solve such dilemmas for me."

He paused and seemed to consider his possibilities. "I know of one that says for every kindness you offer you shall receive threefold in return." He spoke aloud. "Perhaps then if I were to let you free then I would find three times as many traitors to my king."

Once again though, like years before and even faster than my eyes could register the ghost's hand shot forth and buried itself in the boy's chest. "Of course I would have to say I prefer 'A bird, even a Vista-Chiri, in my hand is worth two in the bush.'"

Only ten years of age the gypsy boy convulsed at this attack and while my friends and I looked on his body aged and then died, turning to a fine ash that blew away on the wind in a matter of less than a minute. The goods he carried and the clothes he wore fell to the ground in a pile, making a distinctive tinkle of glass rubbing against glass.

This drew the General's attention and he ordered one of the ghouls to open the small travel sack the boy had been carrying and carefully pour the contents upon the ground. The undead soldier did just that and revealed a pouch of coins, a small sheathed dagger, and three glass vials that held a tar like substance that I knew even before the general confirmed my suspicion with his own words.

"Black Lotus tar." He said smiling. "It appears that our sources were correct that this was being smuggled here at the university after all. Now we need only know its destination."

He now turned and for the first time looked at my three friends who feared to meet his gaze. This made the ghost smile all the more for I sensed he enjoyed the power of fear he held over the living. "I do not suppose any of you three would like to admit to being the intended recipient do you?" He asked the trio.

While afraid my friends were still made of finer moral fiber than many I have known before or since. The supposedly rhetorical question met with an immediate answer.

"I was." The words echoed across the open yard making the ghost pause. Unfortunately the words had not been said by only one person. Harmon, true to his noble heritage spoke up at once for he was certainly not going to let either an elderly woman or a youthful child, much less a pair he considered among his closest friends, suffer at the hands of this ghost and he had just witnessed when he could give up his own life to prevent it.

Tess likewise looked upon this opportunity as a chance to give what remained of her own life, in order to save two younger than herself with more years to live. While she called only Chanella her daughter, I knew then she saw us all as her children and would defend us like a lioness with her cubs if she were allowed to.

"Mother no!" It was Chanella's voice realizing what Tess was doing that came shortly thereafter the other two and added even more confusion to the mix of who was guilty. While her plea was obviously one of love, it was easy for others to assume that she did not want her mother taking the blame for her own crimes.

"Ah well it looks like another question and answer session will be required down at my office." The General said with a dramatic sigh. He turned to another of the ghoul's. "Go inform the turnkey to warm up the irons, I have a feeling it will take at least four to get to the truth of this situation." With that he ordered the others to begin to herd their detainees back to whatever facility would house them for their questioning. One ghoul was also selected by the General, who stopped only long enough to collect the vials of Black Lotus tar, leaving the coin purse and the dagger lying along with the discarded clothes in the grass without a thought.

I could not of course in good conscience allow my friends to be taken away without at least making some attempt to do what I could for them. I felt once more the charm that hung around my neck warm to my skin as I began to speak.

"General Athoul may I beg a moment of your time?" I asked drawing the ghost's attention to me. He seemed surprised once more that I, a mortal, did not turn my eyes from him and I can only assume that the charm I wore had something to do with this.

"You do not fear me boy?" He seemed honestly stunned by this reaction and paused to ponder this. "I have not seen anyone hold my gaze other than that Vistani boy since…"

"…The summer of six eighty two sir." I said bringing him to a stop for a second time by my actions.

"That is right." He said with a smile. "Only the last time it was a pair of boys that showed no fear."

"Yes sir I was one of them." I admitted making him stop and look closely at me.

"Yes I believe you indeed were." He said and paused for another moment to consider this further. "And if I recall correctly that incident also involved Vistani here on this campus as well did it not?"

"It did sir."

"So now I have you admitting that twice in a decade you have been near where Vistani have been encountered." He explained. "And why then should I not believe that perhaps YOU have some role in today's events? You must agree that the chance of coincidence is almost unbelievable would you not?" He asked.

"I would sir." I answered. "Were it not that I knew that it was. Were I to have been any part of these events would it not seem more likely I would try to hide and then likely flee knowing you would learn of my involvement from questioning my friends if they too are guilty?"

"That is true." He seemed to consider. "Rarely have I seen those willing to openly challenge the laws of this land, and no offense to you young sir, but you hardly look like the type brash enough to do so."

"I take no offense sir for your estimation of me is quite correct." I said once more standing before his judgmental gaze.

"Then what purpose do you have for announcing yourself to my attention boy?"

"Justice sir." I said without pause.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning only that I do not think you want the true villain to escape justice while you focus instead erringly upon my friends." I answered. "Like you said the real culprit will likely flee knowing you are now looking for him, and since my friends will not be able to identify him or her for you, how many days of head start will that allow them?"

"That is of course providing what you say is true and your friends are indeed innocent."

"True sir and you have only my word to go on with that." I said. "But consider this as well, if the real villain has contacts among the Vistani then perhaps he has a means to escape your reach for good while you are looking somewhere else. You have them in your grasp and they will not be going anywhere so there is need to question them yet."

That idea seemed to hit home with the ghost and he paused to consider its true implications. "What then are you to suggest as an effective compromise boy?"

"Only that a decade ago you said it would do an old soldier's heart good to know his reputation for serving his king remained untarnished in the eyes of the general population." I replied. "It would do my friends, who are innocent, no good to be subjected to your questions nor would it do you any good to have the real culprit of today's events slip free of you and then tell the world he or she did so. Allow me the chance to find the true villain for you and in return set my friends free."

"That is a fine offer you make and one which I can truly respect." He said to me. "However I will make one slight modification. I will hold your friends for three days before their 'questioning' will begin. I will even see to their comfort during all that time though they shall have no chance to escape. In truth it has been some time since I could hold a pleasant conversation with some of the locals and not having glowing irons held near their bodies so I will likely find this to be and entertaining exercise. If before the end of the third day from today you provide me evidence of who is truly behind this I shall set them free. If not, well then I guess I will have to assume they actually were guilty after all." That seems fair now does it not?"

"Indeed sir." I said then dared to negotiate further. "Though may I ask one last favor to best serve both of our purposes?"

"Your father must have been a blacksmith boy for he certainly forged you a brass set." General Athoul laughed. "What else is it you dare to want from me?"

"He was a merchant actually sir." I said making him chuckle all the more with my brashness. "You said that you had informants who had reported to you that Black Lotus was being smuggled here at the university. If you could provide me with any details on what exactly they said this it might make my own investigation go a bit quicker."

"That makes sense boy but I am afraid I cannot do that." The General apologized. "The source of that information is one of my best informants and his primary mission is to keep tabs on certain others who, like you I might add, have some questionable dealings in their past. I like to keep a close eye on such people's comings and goings and this person is in just the right position to do just that so I am sorry I have to refuse you this request. Your investigations will have to succeed without me providing you this."

I nodded in understanding and not willing to push my chances with this spirit any further at the present.

"If that is all then boy, I must see to your friends before they are accidentally sent now to the wrong facilities three days too early." I bowed and he nodded before flowing away, even this movement the aspect of the perfect loyal soldier.

I took a moment to stand there and wonder what my next move should be. I had only three days and half of a fourth before my friends would be subjected to the questioning period. I had no expectations that any of them would live through the process, rumor had it that no one every had, so it was up to me at this point to try and prevent this event from happening in the first place. What I needed though was a good idea of where to start?

I turned and headed back up the stairs of the college and to my dorm room after first collecting the boy's discarded personal effects. I would give them to his next of kin if such were possible though I found that to be an unlikely encounter at best but the idea of leaving them to be stolen by others did not sit well with me.

The crowd of students that had assembled at the door now scurried before me like roaches when a light came on and gave me a wide berth to walk without interference back to my room. Even the professor I had knocked down in my haste looked at me with a mixture of awe and fear as I had spoken to a member of the infamous Kargat and now still had my freedom. I did not doubt that some, or most likely all, by the end of this day would think me to be one of their informants, or perhaps better still one of the mysterious Kargatane. It would be interesting for me to see how attitudes changed toward me then.

Just outside my door that idea hit me squarely between the eyes. No one, not even dare I say our Master Professor would openly challenge a member of the secret police for all know the power they wield. The culprit behind this crime would of course avoid me just the same as any other innocent student might do, but the informant that General Athoul had spoken of would see me at best as an equal and therefore their attitude would likely not change at all. To find the informant I merely needed to see all of the likely candidates and observe their reaction to me.

Of course that would require the story of this morning events and my role in them to get around some first, but if the grapevine worked as well for this as it had on any of my other adventures, I could only assume that within and hour not a resident of this college would be unaware of all that had taken place and what it likely said about me. And that hour would just give me enough time to make up a list of all the likely suspects who fit the clues I had available so that I did not exclude anyone. With a smile on my face that others close to me in the hallway surely noticed and set them on edge, I entered my room and let the door close behind me.

At the end of an hour I had made a full list of potential spies and who they may be tasked to spy upon and then begun to scratch off names as I eliminated them as a possibility of being the informant that I was seeking. For example, based on what General Athoul had let slip about his source I knew that he used whoever to keep tabs on the interested parties. This hint screamed to me as being one of the university watch since they manned the floor heading up to the professors' private quarters and thereby knew all of their comings and goings at least in a general term.

The problem with this is that the position was not manned by the same people on a constant basis but rather it was part of the normal rotation of watch positions here on the university just like the various gates on campus were. While I could see the advantage of the professors having a few familiar faces to deal and built trust with, this arrangement of lots made sure that no one was always present to keep an overly perceptive eye on their activities. And if they did catch any of the guards taking a special level of interest, then they could ensure their own activities were curtailed while this one was on duty and instead wait for their relief to take over the position. It would create an intellectual puzzle for sure, but one that I could see almost any of my professors playing in order to stay out of the eyes of the Kargat.

This still left more than a few names on my list of potential informants, but as far as those of potential interest to the Kargat one name seemed to jump off the page at me. Professor Kelly Westridge seemed to be the perfect and most likely person the Kargat might just want to keep their eyes on. She had a history with the Vistani for one, though I had no proof they knew this. She was also in a position of authority and therefore able to judge and then recruit people to whatever cause she might have.

I considered for a moment that General Athoul may have called his informant a 'he' simply to throw me off of Professor Westridge's trail but my own encounter with her and the relief she had shown upon thinking I had forgotten her contact with the Vistani was too honest to have been faked. Were she an informant she would know that my exposing her Vistani connections would not have cause her any harm beyond that of her reputation. That day she had told me she remembered me she had also shown real fear as if she did indeed have too much to lose. Therefore I was fairly certain she could not be the informant I was seeking.

But there was of course only one way to prove this theory and at the same time perhaps recruit her trained analytical mind to my side as well. By telling her an informant did indeed exist I could show her that it was in her interest to work with me to expose who it was even if only for herself. She was also in a position to be able to answer the basic questions of who was best able to keep track of her comings and goings.

I left my room and headed at once for the stairs taking time only to bend down to tie a lose lace on one shoe and in so doing actually place a hair upon my door and frame like Harmon had taught me to detect intruders into my room. For the first time in my four years here as I passed other students they did not look down at me or offer snide comments under their breath as I passed. Now they turned their eyes away from meeting my own and said nothing at all, fearful perhaps of the power I wielded over them. I'm certain if I had tarried half would have fainted and the rest would have stumbled over false flattery apologies for years of supposed unintentional abuse. I was just glad that they got out of my way and allowed me to walk where I would.

I climbed up to the third floor and came face to face with the only complication to my plan, namely the university guard whose job it was to stop people like me from passing and disturbing the faculty. For a normal emergency I was to pass a note to the college clerk who would see that it got to the appropriate professor within the next four hours or so and based on their response, I would be told where to meet them and at what time. But with my friends' lives in danger I was not willing to wait and beg an audience without at least trying my best to hurry the process long.

I walked up to the man who stared at me realizing I was obviously not one of the faculty and therefore not supposed to be alone here on this level. I responded to this with my first words.

"I am student Rudolph Van Richten here to see Professor Westridge. Please bid me pass or go inform her at once." I stated and placed an impatient look upon my face.

The guard was obviously shocked by both my name which he obviously recognized now and my unusual demand but this simply made him pause rather than becoming more pliable and letting me pass without question as I might have hoped for.

"Students are not…" He began to stutter the rehearsed phrase they were likely taught to say when standing this post but I cut him off.

"Is Professor Westridge in her quarters?"

He looked down at a chart the guard maintained. "Yes she is." He reported since this information was not restricted from being disclosed.

"Well then you have a choice of three options my friend. I said in a way to ensure he knew that last word was a pleasantry only. "You can let me pass, you can go inform her that I am here, or you can provide me your name so I can inform the proper authorities who exactly it was that delayed me from the task I had been directed to accomplish."

Since with my possible reputation the third was seen as signing one's own name to a writ of execution it was obvious that he was going to choose between the other two. In the end to prove his dedication to his position the guard asked me to wait as he would go down the hall to knock on the door. I told him instead that I would accompany him and if she decided not to see me then I would depart with him as well, but this way I need not delay any more than I had to waiting for him to travel the length of the corridor twice.

He knocked three times loudly upon the door. "My lady the student Rudolph Van Richten is here and desires a word with you." The guard said trying to walk the line of his duties and not daring to challenge someone with potentially lethal connections.

"You may bid him to enter." She said though her tone was one of resignation rather than joy at this news.

He turned the knob on the door and I strode right past him and into the sunlit outer room of her personal quarters and stood and waiting for her to appear from the more private portions of her suite. When I did not hear the door close behind me I turned my head and raised a single eyebrow at the guard making him blanch, bow and close the door as he backed away and departed for his guard post once more.

I could hear Professor Westridge moving around in the other room but I awaited her presence without comment for I had been raised to respect women in all such things and certainly never to rush them. She emerged at last from the other room wearing the briefest of attire and took up a pose leaning against the doorway that was purely suggestive.

I could not help but look at her there and I noted a woman, while aged, who had obviously been a beauty in her younger days and while she saw only how much she had changed, I could see the loveliness and experience now that still remained. I said nothing at first for I did not understand what all was taking place. Call me naïve but this was hardly an aspect of my plan that I had considered.

"I am glad to see the gentlemanly manners were not an act Rudolph." She said obvious both nervous and embarrassed. "If nothing else I will face my death knowing you had the common decency not to laugh at an old woman who has only the shreds of her pride remaining to take from her. I suppose I cannot offer any enticement for my life?"

"Madam your assumptions about me are mistaken." I tried to answer turning my eyes away in my own obvious embarrassment. Whatever rumors she might have heard of what type of people worked with the Kargat, I am certain my own blushing shame was not on the top of her list. "Ma'am I am no agent of the Kargat and my actions outside were only my means to seek to save the lives of my friends however I may. If this is easier now to let others think I am such an informant or agent of the secret police, then I will do so gladly. But while we have never been friends, you have always treated me fairly so I will not lie to you in this way."

"But the ghost…" She started.

"Yes this is the second time my path has cross that of General Athoul and I have lived to speak about it." I answered. "But he allows me this reprieve of three days only so that I might find the true culprit he seeks. And to do so Madame Professor I need your help."

She stood there for a moment stunned, weighing my words and especially my undeniable honest reactions to her own worst fears and finding my own story the more likely though with reservations since I still obviously knew about her own past with the Vistani and could expose her if I chose to. "What help do you require of me?"

I turned to look and blushed again for she had not changed position or even seemed conscious of the state of attire she was in now that her mind was off on other things.

"Ma'am might I ask since I am now a married man that you find something a little more…"

"Oh my gods!" She said embarrassed and I could hear her scramble into her room once more and come back a moment later wearing a rather large robe that covered everything with the necessary modesty of decency. She pointed to a chair as she came across the room and sat opposite the one she offered me and I accepted.

"I will say again and with even more honesty thank you again for not laughing at me." She said with a bit more of her natural pride seeping slowly back into her.

I do not know what you mean ma'am." I replied honestly. "I can only hope my own Ingrid stays as lovely as you to look upon though in truth I am certain I will love her regardless of that triviality."

She knew not what to say in response to that for I doubt not that it had been many years since anyone had offered her an honest compliment like that while seeking nothing in return. It is only sad to me that she had no one in her life to do so regularly.

"Well you have at least earned my full attention for your request." She said now drawing more serious. "What aid might I be able to provide you in your worthy endeavor?"

Over the next hour I laid all my cards upon the table, telling her in truth not only what had happened this morning but also the investigations that Harmon and I had conducted over the past year. I explained how Professor Henry's death had likely been staged and that we had learned of missing bodies that the cemetery records and those of the college could not account for. Finally we discussed the potential informant that was here in the college and tried to identify who it might be.

Like me she dismissed the university guards for the very same reasons that I had. Unless the one in question was a doppelganger and able to assume the forms of many guards, there were just too many individuals to keep proper tabs on the comings and goings of the faculty and events here at the school itself.

"What about another professor?" I asked. "Could one of them be watching over the rest of you?"

"No." She said after a period of deliberation. "None except Master Professor Gunther have any idea what we are all doing and that man has too many of his own skeletons to keep hidden to dare be informing upon any of us." She said deadly serious.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe the Kargat learned one or more of these secrets and blackmail him into serving them."

"But you see then an informant would not be required." She explained. "As Master Professor of this college he may go where he will and look in on any of us without question. He could search my rooms here simply by knocking and demanding to do so. No if anything he is, like me, one of those being carefully watched rather than being the watcher."

The fact that the Master Professor was not without his own skeletons in his closet did not surprise me. Harmon had often lectured me that the nobles and those in power often had many such things since they could afford the foolishness of such whereas men like my father could not. I was now starting to believe that he knew of what he was speaking.

But having skeletons of his own hardly made Gunther a valid suspect of who the Vistani boy was working for or I should say made him any more of a suspect than any of the others. In truth only the informant would likely know who the real targets were here in the college and I had to find this mystery man in order to ask him. This of course left presently me right where I had been at the beginning, without any clue of who this person was.

"Is there no one else in a position to monitor your comings and goings beyond what we all can see?" I asked.

"No one." She sucked in a breath and barely whispered a word. "Except…"

I held my own breath waiting for her to finish until I cold not hold it any longer. "Except for who?" I asked trying to bring her back to the conversation at hand.

"The college clerk." She answered. "We all submit to him our schedules for the week so that he can ensure not only that we do not overlap classrooms, but also that he can locate us if another professor is sick and unable to teach a given class and requires a substitute."

"So he always knows your whereabouts and activities?" I asked confirming this once more.

"Yes he does."

This answer seemed enough for me and I thanked her ad made ready to depart. She stood up as well.

"Let me come with you." She requested. "He has to answer me since I am a professor."

"You are overlooking that if he is the informant as we suspect then he may actually be watching you." I answered. "If you apply leverage to expose him he can just as easily turn the tables on you. I would feel better knowing any problems that I conjure in my investigations come back at me and not on those I care about and respect."

This made her pause and eventually nod her head. I turned to go and she stopped me with a hand to my shoulder. "You are a much finer man than I gave you credit for, better than most who have been in your position, and I am sorry to have misjudged you for these oh so many years."

"I understand and there is no reason to apologize."

"Then can I ask you come back and tell me what you learn?" She smiled and I could see that glimmer of youth back in her eyes once more.

"You can count on it." I said and headed off for my next confrontation which would likely not be as polite as this one had been.

"Oh it is you." The clerk said from behind his desk, dropping his eyes once more to the paper in front of him as if I did not matter at all. Had I needed any additional proof that he was indeed the one I sought then he had just provided it without me even asking. That someone might not look on me differently had they not heard the rumors was a definite possibility, but our college clerk was the center of the rumor mill in this building, likely another way of furthering his informant role, so that was not possible in this case. That only left the possibility that the news did not affect him, which meant of course he felt himself immune to this revelation.

When I did not leave immediately and only stood there in silence, eventually his cool and distant demeanor changed to one of interest. He looked up at me once more and while there were others passing nearby waiting for me to say something.

"We can do this here if you prefer but I suspect your master would prefer we do it in quiet." I said. This for the record is not a lie. I am absolutely certain that General Athoul would prefer I exposed him in private rather than tell the entire campus if he wanted to continue to use him as a source of information. I just did not weigh in that equation that the ghost would probably prefer I not say anything at all in this case.

"Master Professor Gunther?" He asked trying and failing to deflect since I could see the additional nervousness in his eyes. I wondered why the General would pick such a person as his agent.

"No I am thinking of a more general position." I said casually and happy to see his eyes widen. "Meet me in the cafeteria in ten minutes and I will have a warm cup of tea waiting for you."

Perhaps it was the seriousness of my tone, which was so unlike all my other exchanges with the clerk that confused him enough and made him nod his head in acceptance. "Ten minutes." I said once more for emphasis and then departed to go get the tea ready and make sure we had a private place to talk things out.

I had counted the seconds in my mind after leaving and the clerk arrived at the eight minute thirty three second mark looking, if anything, less sure of himself than he had been just a few minutes ago. There had been only one other group of four students in the dining area when I entered and once they saw me the group suddenly remembered other places they had to be at just that moment. This of course helped my own plans as well.

The clerk came up to the table and started to sit opposite me but I pointed to the chair on my right and he meekly submitted since I was brimming with confidence, no matter how much of it was acting.

"What do you want?" He said as he sat down, no longer the snobby filter for this college but now someone out of their depth.

"I?" I asked. "Nothing." I replied. "However a friend of mine wants you to tell me everything your investigations into this college have turned up so far." Once again my statement was completely true. I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harmon would certainly want the clerk to tell me all he knew if it meant freedom for the three of them. Is it my fault if the clerk assumed I was speaking of a certain Kargat general?

He seemed undecided, even knowing that I obviously knew what he was doing. I could see his mind seeking not only what his best course of action was, but how he might flee as well. "Of course if you would rather explain your hesitance to my friend then you can do that instead."

Since the clerk had been one at the door and had observed the death of the gypsy boy this morning that threat was even more powerful than I had expected. With no further prompting he explained all he knew of these events and answered my questions as they came to me. For simplicity sake I will merely summarize this information.

The clerk's original mission had indeed been to spy upon the faculty of this college and this had been assigned to him when the former clerk had been rounded up and killed due to a visit by the Vistani a decade earlier. It took all my control to not shudder knowing I was part of the very event to which he now spoke.

While he had been assigned specifically by General Athoul at first to watch specifically over Professor Westridge that mission eventually changed over time. Firstly this was because she had not done anything remotely questionable in all that time except backtalk to her superior which earned her the clerk's respect. Had it not been for the zombie attack on Harmon and I four years ago it is likely the investigation at this college would have stopped all together. Unfortunately though because of that the Kargat knew someone other than our Wizard King had animated this corpse. By knowing what was done and where the event had possibly transpired, General Athoul assigned the clerk now to find out why.

Like I had done, the clerk created a list of names, mainly the students who had been in the anatomy class at the time, and those few professors who had access to the bodies, which were only Master Professor Gunther and Professor Henry. Over time he crossed names off the list and focused more on the two faculty members.

Professor Henry had been the top suspect until he had turned up dead last year. That made the clerk look back at his notes once more about the only remaining suspect; Master Professor Gunther. While he had never found any single action the professor had done to be questionable, certain patterns emerged as he looked over his notes that he had missed while they were happening.

One such is that Professor Gunther always signed out with the clerk on nights of the full moon supposedly to have meals in the city proper. The next time this occurred after he had learned of it the clerk also followed Gunther, though ten minutes behind. When he arrived at the inn in question he found that there was a large crowd but no sign of the professor. Nor did the owner recognize the description of the man who supposedly ate in his inn every month for the past three years or more.

"I know not where he goes for I have never been able to follow him." The clerk admitted at last. "But perhaps tonight you can do so." He stared at me with a hopeful look making me realize that indeed tonight was the night of a full moon. Perhaps the answers I needed could be found and my friends freed soon. Or perhaps we would all become nothing more than smoke and ashes carried on the wind like the Vistani boy this morning.

I returned to my room after telling Professor Westridge all that I had learned and especially that she was no longer a suspect to watch as far as the Kargat were concerned. She thanked me again and asked what she could do to help. I tried to turn her from this course but she insisted saying that if I was indeed set upon following Gunther then she would try to stay with him and keep him distracted for as long as she could. The rest of this she would be forced to leave up to me.

I agreed eventually, conceding that her presence would be far less likely to raise his suspicions than my own would now with my rumored association to the Kargat being spoken so widely. Thankfully Professor Gunther and I had not crossed paths at all this day.

I noted that the tiny hair I had left upon my door was still in place so I was confident no one had been in my room, especially a certain Master Professor, trying to determine what if anything I knew of the goings on here at this college. I was especially glad to know at least there was no paid assassin or guilt ridden student waiting inside for me to even their personal score with a representative of the Kargat.

That possibility though struck a chord in me as to my own personal safety and made me decided some added security was a good idea. I wandered down the hall and let myself in to Harmon's room which I had a spare key for just like he had one for mine. While others saw me, none raised a question either knowing that we were friends, or more likely afraid to challenge one who could hold power of death over them.

Thankfully I was familiar with where he stored the item in question so after only a moment I was holding his wheel lock pistol and his bags of powder and shot. I was also thankful for the lessons he had given me in this weapon and was certain that while surely expensive, he would not begrudge my borrowing of these items since I was doing so to rescue him.

Happy to see the hair still in place I opened my door and to my complete surprise found three visitors awaiting me in my room. So shocked was I at their appearance that the firearm I carried for defense, thankfully not currently loaded, fell from my nerveless fingers to land first on my foot and then on the floor. I stood dumbfounded until an all too familiar aged voice bid me to enter and shut the door which I did without question.

"So young Van Richten the time has come to pay your debt to the Vistani." The old woman in my chair said while her two companions stood beside her with the calm looks they had worn a decade earlier. The woman in the chair made Tess appear just out of her middle years by comparison for she was both wrinkled and aged like a carrot that had been left for weeks in the sun. Her eyes though bespoke of power and understanding beyond which any mortal should carry.

"You do not deny you still have this debt?" She asked me and I merely shook my head accepting as my father would expect that I deal fairly with all I promises with. "That is why you will always hold a special place in the hearts of the Vistani."

"What do you wish of me grandmother?" I asked offering up what I hoped she would understand was a title of respect not one of merely age. She smiled back and nodded at this.

"This day a boy of the Vistani, though not of my tribe, named Sergei was killed only yards from here." She spoke to explain. "Ah yes I can see in your eyes that you observed this crime and the one who committed it." I could only nod as she continued to speak.

"We Vistani seek to punish the one responsible for his death." She said and the sudden idea that she wanted me to battle General Athoul sent a shiver through my body.

"Honored grandmother I cannot destroy so powerful a ghost." I said hoping she would understand what she asked of me was beyond my ability to provide.

"Perhaps not today but one day." She said with a secret smile. "But I do not ask you to seek out the one who committed the act. I know your General well and we Vistani shall even our score with him one day when the time is right." She explained confusing me. "I want you to find for us the one who was responsible. The one who hired Sergei to carry his powders was the one to betray him as well. You will find this one for us and when you do it shall be Vistani justice that he sees."

I was of course torn by this for if it was the Master Professor behind these actions, I needed him alive to exchange for the lives of my friends. But now my honor was at stake here as well. I looked once more to the old woman but knew not how to explain this all to her.

"Unlike Giorgios the Vistani do not seek to punish all transgressions against us by death." She said. "It will be up to you to decide after we have had our say whether you give him to the Kargat or not."

The way she spoke that made me uncomfortable but at least it provided me with some hope of rescuing my friends. I nodded my agreement and the three stood up and prepared to leave, walking out through my door which I was certain would only complicate matters all the more for me. But then I realized something else.

"Please wait." I went quickly to my desk and removed Sergei's dagger, clothes, and pouch of coins and offered them. "These belonged to your boy. I believe they should belong to you now."

The old woman took the clothes and dagger from my hand and slowly drew the blade from its sheath. Where before simple silvered steel had shown when I had looked upon it, now the blade glowed blue with the light of enchantment. She slid the blade back in once more and handed it back to me. "This blade will serve your efforts better than our own." She said simply but handed the clothes to one of her companions. "And those coins you hold are blood money to us. Return them to the one who gave them to Sergei and the debt between us shall be even." I nodded at this and the trio turned and left. I followed on their heels but not a single person in the hallway seemed to notice as they walked by.

Night eventually approached and I made my way in secret from my room and out the east gate while the others on my floor were mostly at dinner. I can not guarantee that I was not seen by anyone who might be choosing to monitor my actions, but I took what precautions I could and a roundabout route to prevent or throw them off as best I could. I also stopped in the same patch of woods I had met the Vistani years before and changed from my normal apparel which I considered fine but others tended to look down on me for, to clothes of even lesser quality like that a common messenger would wear. With my hooded cloak up and the otherwise nondescript appearance of my form that my parents had blessed me with I judged that I looked no different from others, and therefore deserved no special attention of my quarry on the street once I passed through the gate.

Thankfully my questioning of the clerk had provided me the usual time that Professor Gunther departed and at least the beginnings of the route he took each night of the full moon. This allowed me the opportunity to stake out a position ahead of his course to observe him and hopefully once he passed to follow from a discrete distance if I could.

For part of this trip I would also have Professor Westridge distracting his attention and thereby keeping him from looking for anyone like me who might be following. Hopefully she would know when her presence would become questionable and therefore stop in time to prevent him from growing too suspicious. I wanted him calm rather than his senses on alert.

It was still dusk and I had checked out all the local merchants while keeping an ever watchful eye on the gate at the same time. Thankfully the guards who had let me pass had changed out for dinner so the new ones did not find anything odd about a supposed messenger who just stood around shopping instead of performing his duties.

My growling stomach reminded me that I had missed dinner so I bought two hot greasy sausages in rolls and was paying for them with my back to the gate when I heard an all too familiar voice. "Professor Gunther wait for a moment." Professor Westridge called out to him and I had to restrain myself from turning around and looking as the two stood at the gate that the guards held open for them.

"A late evening for you is it not Professor Westridge?" Gunther's words were barbed and condescending.

"Not so much." She replied. "I have a date this evening and do not want to be late so can we speak while we walk?"

"You have a date?" His voice held awe in it as I heard their steps coming closer.

"I do." She let an edge of challenge in her voice. "I would tell you that you should do the same but I doubt anyone could meet your exacting standards." She said this from nearly right behind me.

"Exactly." I heard him mutter.

Then they were past me and heading down the street where I could see out of the corner of my eye without turning me head to show interest in them as I finished my second sausage. The first bites now felt like a greasy brick in my stomach but I still had to finish the second so not to draw any undue attention onto myself. I especially did not want to focus my mind upon what meat had been the basis for this creation. From the flavor I can say with all honesty that it certainly did not taste like chicken!

"What did you want to speak to me about? I heard Gunther asking as the distance between us increased.

"Only to see if you would cover my Monday morning class." She asked politely.

"But it is only Friday." He answered. "Do not tell me you expect to be sick?"

"Sick? No." She replied. "But that is not the only reason not to get out of bed in the morning." I could almost see her wink even though her back was to me. I did not hear his reply and decided that this was enough of a head start to begin following him. Thankfully there was still some traffic on the streets yet, but not too much that I would chance to lose him in a crowd.

As we began to close on the inn that was his supposed destination I saw Professor Westridge turn down another main street while Gunther watched her go, stopping for a moment to scrape something off his shoe but actually using the time to make sure she departed and then begin looking around to see if anyone else was interested in him.

"Excuse me miss I think you dropped this." I touched the nearest person on the street and turned her around placing her between Gunther and myself. At first she was insulted and aghast by being accosted and manhandled by someone she did not know in the street, but when she saw the piece of silver in my hand that I was saying she had dropped her expression became one of gratefulness.

"Yes sir it must have slipped out of a hole in my purse." She said taking the coin as I look over her shoulder and just around her hair.

Gunther's eyes slipped past us for we appeared as nothing more than a common man and woman having a conversation of some sort on the street. Once more satisfied that his business was his own to pursue he stepped off at a slightly brisker pace, such as one who knew they had a long way to go and only a few remaining minutes of daylight to get there. In Darkon such things do not thankfully raise any significant suspicion in others as night approaches for I was forced to match his pace.

As the clerk had deduced, the Master Professor stepped right on past the inn he was supposedly to dine at this evening and turned instead without looking back at the second alleyway that lay beyond. I did not know this area of town very well so feared losing him, but I could also not afford to rush forward for where he had turned made a perfect place to stop and watch from the darkness for anyone pursuing. Instead I forced myself to stand outside the inn door and count for a full minute before beginning my pursuit again. I only hoped I had not lost his trail in the interim.

I turned down the same alley and found to my surprise it was not a thoroughfare like most alleys were but was instead a dead end that stopped only fifteen feet or so further in from the road. Second and third story windows peeked out above this alley and from the smell I had no doubt this was a place the local resident poured out their night buckets of waste every morning that slowly wound there way down to the single sewer grate.

There were also no doors anywhere in this small area that I could see, and stepping carefully to protect my shoes more than any further concern for being seen or heard I walked to the other end and confirmed there was no where else for Master Professor Gunther to have gone. He had obviously not climbed to any of the windows for there was nothing on which to stand, and since I judged that I could not make the jump up I knew a man of his advanced age and girth certainly could not have either.

A distant clank, like that of a boot kicking a loose roc, echoed up from the sewer grate and while it could just as likely be a pebble dislodged by a rat or something even more undead and dangerous, I knew I had to follow for it may also be my missing professor. If it was then I knew he was indeed the person I sought for only desperate men with things to hide risked their lives in the sewers of Il' Aluk.

The grate opened with little effort and no noise confirming my suspicion. I quickly climbed down finding that the walls reflected a slight luminescence from a certain green mold that grew in patches along the wall. While not bright enough to read by, it was enough to keep me from slamming my head into any overhangs that may exist. It was the however brighter glow off in the distance that tended to bounce like someone walking that seemed to me to indicate the best direction for me to follow.

My eyes darted between keeping track of that light and making sure of my footing so that I made as little noise as possible. Thankfully after only a few moments the light seemed to stop allowing me to draw closer after a few steps and confirm that it was some light source other than a torch or lantern indeed carried by Professor Gunther that was glowing rather than some deadly menacing willow wisp or such.

As I got close I could see him open a common door, not a grate or metal pipe sealing barrier as might be expected down here, but a true wooden door, perhaps leading to someone's larder or wine cellar. Of course the smell of this place made me wonder who would willingly store food or drink in close proximity to all this?

I paused for a moment at this door after he had passed, seeing it had been not only left unlocked but that the key still stood in the keyhole. Did this make it a temporary stop for Gunther, or was he one to leave the key so he could find it when time came to close and relock whatever secrets the room held. Or perhaps did he somehow know about my pursuit?

I opened this door slowly as well, thankful that like the sewer grate had been it too was well oiled and made no sound as it swung inward. The room that lay beyond flickered in a mixture of darkness and candlelight making shadows dance and play upon the walls. Of Gunther though I saw no immediate sign anywhere.

I drew the wheel lock pistol from my belt and cocked back the sparking hammer making sure it was ready to fire and making even more sure not to point it at any portion of my own body in the process. I took a step forward, feeling the stone block before my food sink just a bit as my only warning that I had sprung a trap set and waiting for intruders just like me.

The soft dancing glow of candle burst into full brilliance all at once blinding me for a moment but allowing the two zombies that stood one to each side of the door to step forward and lock their death grip onto each of my arms rendering me a prisoner barely able to move. I struggle fruitlessly for the two had been in life much stronger than I and death had only added to this ability. Knowing I was not going anywhere for the foreseeable future I resigned myself to waiting, knowing since they had chosen to capture rather than kill then their master would desire to speak with me.

Minutes later a man in black hooded robes stepped forth from an alcove I had not originally noticed and turned to stare in my direction. Thankfully by this point my eyesight had begun to recover and I could make out that the figure observing me was Professor Gunther and that the robes he wore were stitched with silver glyphs that appeared to me to be religious rather than mystical in nature.

"So my common trap catches a Kargat rat does it?" Gunther laughed pulling the hood back from his head and exposing that his totally bald pallet had been disguised over the years I had known him with faked patches of glued on hair. Those areas of skin now exposed gleamed with wicked black and red tattoos that I did not understand but made me uncomfortable to look upon for very long.

"You know after trying to kill you for the past four years and failing at every turn, this method of your capture and destruction is certainly rather anticlimactic." He chuckled. "Not that I will not accept it of course, just strange that you dodged all my earlier traps only to fall for this one whose real design purpose was to catch common thieves down here in the sewers with unhealthy interests in locked doors."

"Would you care to enlighten me on what made me so deserving of such special treatment from you?" I asked.

"Do not play me for a fool boy." He said with no disguise to the anger and hatred he felt toward me. "Disarm him." He ordered and the two undead began to remove from my possession everything that may remotely be considered a weapon to include, unfortunately, the vials of holy water in my belt that would likely have been effective on them had I been able to reach them. Of course that was not to be.

The undead pair then at his command left these things on the ground and walked me to an adjoining room where I was pushed down to sit on one of the bare plank benches before an altar that was as disturbing to look upon as the tattoos Gunther wore.

"I recognized you as a potential threat the day your father came here to sell that silver holy symbol to those fools who worship Erza." He explained. "I was there at the theological discussion that day representing my own faith, The Eternal Order." He spoke the name as if it was supposed to mean something to me or invoke fear.

Because of my connections to ghosts I had heard rumors of a religion here in Darkon who claimed our land had been stolen from the dead and one day the dead would steal it back. Supposedly this faith was presided over by a secret cult of priests and priestesses with power to raise and command the undead. I could only assume by my current situation that these stories and The Eternal Order were one and the same organization.

"I saw through your story from the very first." He explained. "That some peasant would have such a masterful work of art for a rival religion was nearly unbelievable, and that his son would at the same time encounter the leader of the Kargat and live to tell about it stretched the realm of credibility too far for me to accept." He scoffed at events which I knew to be unrelated. "Then when you returned to register at my college on the very year that I began to execute my plan I knew that the Kargat were on to my plans though I did not understand how they could have found out."

"I thought if I could eliminate you quietly and with little fuss then I would have the time to execute my plans but you hardly made that easy for me did you?" He snarled. "You destroyed my zombie that was ordered to kill you because I had not foreseen you would be wise enough to carry holy water with you always. Obviously your masters knew or suspected my association with The Eternal Order for why else would you have such a uniquely useful weapon that day?"

"Of course those fools Carrot and MacDougal had to die before they helped lead authorities back to me and ruin my greater schemes in the process." He detailed even more. "Thankfully the pair understood with my powers, death was not an ending to our relationship so much as a transition and actually their ghoulish identities not only kept them useful to me but also prepared them for the coming of the Eternal Night. And based upon their work environment, meals would never again be a problem."

"I decided then to change tactics over the next year and recruit someone to perform your death for me so it could not be linked in any way." He explained. "Thankfully I had a bitter student looking for a means to kill off her father at my disposal. All it took to recruit her was a supply of Black Lotus powder, and a series of step by step directions on how to set him up to be convicted and executed for having such material. The powder was simple for I had a steady access to for my other plans, and the instructions had been unsigned so she had no way to trace them back to me."

"How did you manage to see through this plan?" He asked me. "I was certain the story she was instructed to invent about ghosts and then tell your friend Tess would draw you into her clutches so you might be killed. But still you managed somehow to survive while she died!" He stared at me as if seeking an answer but also daring me to interrupt him and speak. I chose to sit quietly and tried to appear calm as if all were going according to my own plans. My hope was to make him uncertain in his confidence though how that might serve me in the long run I could not actually say.

"You knew of course now of the zombies and the Black Lotus so I had to throw you off my trail. Thankfully Professor Henry provided the perfect scapegoat since the oblivious fool had not been counting the actual number of bodies being delivered for the two years I had placed him in this job." Again he paused. "But once more you saw through his apparent suicide. Would you care to enlighten me on how you did so?"

"You smeared Black Lotus tar on his tongue but there was none on his fingers or any sign of gloves he might have worn only the powder which would not leave such obvious evidence." I repeated the errors that Harmon had made me wise to.

"So then I suspect it was you who killed Carrot and MacDougal once and for all?" He asked to which I simply nodded. "What type of message were you trying to send to me by this?"

I remained calm and chose not to answer as if I was still in charge though in truth I felt anything but.

"Whatever you believe you were doing you are now too late to stop my plans." He said with his own satisfaction as if he knew without any hint of doubt that he held all the cards.

"Oh and why is that?"

"Because for months now I have sent forth the zombies that I created whose tattered remains hold vials of Black Lotus dust within them to Castle Avernus." He replied. "These containers are not magical so the king's wards and protections will fail to detect them. Since all undead answer to him once they reach his fortress, the zombies will perform their duties as directed and the vials inside of them will break apart over time spreading the dust throughout his castle. Soon with every breath a little more will he take in until the quantity becomes too much for his body to defend against and he will die. Likely that level is already present in the castle. And best of all there is no cure, magical or otherwise for this!"

I had to admit the plan was both well designed to exploit the personal habits of our king and diabolical in its evil simplicity and ruthlessness. I also immediately realized that while it would likely kill our king, it would most certainly also kill all his living servants who lived there as well along with those who regularly came to his castle such as advisors and the living members of the Kargat. All these individuals would grow sick slowly over time so not likely realize the danger they were in or the source it had come from until it was too late if they noticed at all.

I folded my hands in my lap, seeking on my person anything I might use for a weapon. High Priest and Master Professor Gunther watched my movements with suspicion at first but knew I had nothing but my coin purses on my belt.

I tested my own with my fingertips and found the few coins in it were not even enough to act as a sap were I to get such an opportunity. The former one from the Vistani boy was much heavier and with a lucky blow might serve to stun him long enough for me to find some other weapon. But to be able to do that I need to keep him distracted.

"Please do not stop now." I said sitting back a little more comfortably as if enjoying his story while I slowly tugged at the pull strings on my belt to release this potential missile into my hands for this desperate attack. "You still have this morning's events."

"Ah yes." He said turning angry. "I set the Vistani up against the Kargat hoping you two would destroy each other and all I get for my efforts is the silencing of my Black Lotus supplier!" For once he did not seem to want to elaborate more but instead played out these events in his mind. "How could you possibly convince them not to kill each other? Their hatred for one another is legendary!"

"Because the Vistani wanted to know who was behind these plans more than they were seeking revenge for the death of their own." I explained. "In fact they wanted me to pass a message on to you." My words drew a look of surprise from him and gave me the moment to finish untying the old worn out leather pouch of coins and raise it up as if to show him.

"I assume you recognize this?" I asked holding the aged bag up for his view but making sure it clinked with the recognizable sound of coins. My other hand moved slightly around my waist and I could see him focusing on this one as well, suspecting I was using the coins to distract him from some secret weapon such as a hidden dagger his undead agents had not found. Of course he did not know that the coins were my only weapon.

"Yes those are the coins I paid that gypsy brat this morning to wait for you and your friends." He answered admitting his guilt.

"The Vistani called them 'Blood Money' and asked that I give them back." I answered moving my empty hand to draw his attention as I flung the pouch of coins at his head. My aim was perfect, but I had failed to account for how old the pouch was for as it left my hand already I could hear the leather tearing so instead of a single heavy missile, Master Professor Gunter was instead pelted by dozens of smaller and lighter ones. It even seemed to me, though it may have merely been a trick of the light, that those which might have flown wide of their target instead adjusted their course ever so slightly to ensure they reached their destination.

Wherever any coin struck it stuck fast, be it on arms, face, or the priest's torso. In those places protected by a covering of cloth as most were the coin seemed to solder to and then eat though the material seeking the flesh that lay beneath. Those that struck flesh began to feed almost immediately, joined by more and more as they worked through the layers of cloth. Regardless of what they had begun as or how long ago they had been minted, gold, silver, and copper coins all quickly changed to a steady singular color of dark blood red as they fed upon the life of their target. The process also was without a significant amount of pain.

For his part Master Professor Gunther tried desperately to peel these away from his skin but none could be released not mater what extra damage he did with his nails to his own surrounding flesh. He stumbled more than once in his efforts to remove these and eventually landed upon his knees screaming until he almost was hoarse. Through whatever ill powers he commanded that remained to him he forced himself to silence and then began what appeared to be the initiation of a prayer or spell.

The coins seemed to sense this and all twisted on his body making him scream in ultimate pain once more and therefore ruin whatever divine favor he had asked for even before it was fully spoken. Neither could he find the will to order his zombies to aid him for they stood stock still beside me offering their master no aid nor preventing me from moving since they had not been ordered to do so.

I returned to the outer room and collected my property that had been left upon the floor, carefully listening to Gunther's continual whimpers of pain to ensure he was not finding a way to free himself. He seemed to quickly learn that to resist was to suffer even more and now was curled up in a ball likely barely conscious to anything more than a continuous stream of pain exploding in his mind and body.

Between the holy water vials I carried and the enchanted dagger I slew one and then the other zombie before either could offer much in the way of resistance. Then ensuring I had ready access to my weapons on my belt with either hand I lifted Gunther to his feet and began to prod him back into the sewers proper and along the course we had both taken to get here. Only once did he try to resist when we realized where I was taking him and again the coins took this action on his part as aggression and once more reduced him to a curled up pleading fetal ball of pain until he finally surrendered and I prodded him once more to his feet.

I did not know if I could move him in this manor all the way to the Kargat barracks but luckily once I reached the street I immediately encountered a quartet of city watch soldiers who were drawn to us by Gunther's mournful pleas of mercy. I explained my situation to them while they held me at sword point and then I asked two of them to go speak to General Athoul and report my success since I was not allowed by them to go anywhere. I also pleaded with the soldiers to request the General bring my friends along by telling the leader of the Kargat that I had fulfilled my end of the bargain.

In less time than one might think, though likely an eternity for the Master Professor who still writhed in overpowering pain at the name of the General and the Kargat, the ghost appeared leading his score of ghouls who surrounded, but did not directly threaten my three friends. His face was unreadable but at least he had come as I asked.

The General looked at me and the still suffering obvious priest at my feet and asked for my report. I understood the military inference to tell my tale and explained all I had learned, leaving out only the role that Professor Westridge had played since she did not deserve any additional scrutiny now that she was free of it and instead explaining that I had deduced the identity of his informant myself. I also left out any mention of the visit by the Vistani or any role they had in this beyond stating of course that I had collected the boy's clothes, dagger, and coin purse after he had departed.

General Athoul seemed to accept all of this without comment and looking closer at the suffering high priest on the ground spoke quietly to no one in particular. "A Vistani Blood Money curse." He said touching one coin with an ethereal finger making it become more aggressive on Master Professor Gunther so that he cried out in response. "I have not seen one of these effects in nearly a century."

The General rose up to his full height and looked me square in the eyes as if once more judging me. I cannot say if he suspected that I had withheld anything from my report or not but he did not chose to question me on any of this. After a while though he broke into a ghostly grin and ordered my friends to be released and for his soldiers to pick up Gunther and returned to their barracks where he would be placed in far less comfortable quarters than my companions had enjoyed for the day.

Before he left I asked him about the plot against the king and what might we do to protect our liege's life. He only laughed and said that while the plan had truly been ingenious, Lord Azalin Rex is not so easily brought low by even such an evil plan. The zombies carrying their lethal mixes would be destroyed, likely within the hour, and with a cleansing fire that would erase the powder once and for all. Those servants and visitors who had become exposed to this attack would be cured if possible, which is more than one would normally expect. I merely nodded at the confidence he had that the king's life was in no real danger since it was his job to protect him.

On the way back to the campus I explained all that I had learned and done on this singular day to my friends and we went at once to see Professor Westridge, who had not actually had a date but had returned to her quarters as she told me she would. Thankfully she left orders with the university guards on the floor that I was to be allowed immediate access to her quarters if I so requested it.

By morning, even though it was a weekend, the faculty of the College of Medicine had voted her the new Master Professor, above some more senior, but in recognition of her leadership ability. I of course avoided her and everyone else except my established friends for I was still thought by most to be an informant for the Kargat.

She did pull me aside at one point when o one was around to explain a detail to which I had been as unaware as she had been for nearly a decade. She told me on that day we had first seen each other that her question to the Vistani had been 'will I ever prove myself to the faculty to rise to the position of Master Professor?'

She said the old woman had her draw a card and while she could not remember what name the old woman had called it by, she did remember it held the picture of a small child. The Vistani had told her the answer to her question about her future based upon this single card just like my own and Eldrenn's had been.

"You shall never climb to this peak by your personal efforts no matter how deserving. But by trusting in the child who looks up to you will become all you wish." The Vistani had told her.

The new Master Professor told me until now she had never understood what this had truly meant. She thought that she had been meant to have a child and this would somehow see the dream through to her desired result. Unfortunately she was one of those poor unfortunate women who could not conceive and therefore believed that the fate she had been offered was actually a lie. Only now looking back did she realize I was the child, at least I was when this fortune was spoken, who she needed to trust. She has promised to remain a true and honest friend for ever more to me.

As a last note to make this story complete for the reader, Tess sent Chanella with a small book from the library for me to look through the next day that she said I needed to see. I was surprised to see it was a treatise on black spells and curses.

Paging through this I found reference to the Vistani Blood Money curse and I transcribe it here for you:

_While unmatched in their ability to lay a curse upon another, the Vistani Blood Money is one such pinnacle of such efforts, if of course black magic is worthy of this level of praise._

_Normally such blight shall only be placed on one who has harmed the Vistani in the worst way possible. From what I have learned of them this will always involve the death of a Vistani child and this death shall have been paid for with coins._

_The Vistani believe, and I will not discount after seeing this effect played out before my own eyes, that coins carry the memory of every deed they transacted. And for all the pain they were forced to pay for, some of that taint is absorbed into their very metals._

_When the coins touch their intended recipient through whatever means they will over time release this evil karma by sucking the blood of their victim and causing the most excruciating of pain. I am told that is to represent the feeling of loss that the dead child's parents must endure or the rest of their lives as well. But so sinister is this curse that the coins will not let the victim die from these wounds._

_Since some coins may be hundreds of years old, one can only wonder at how much such dark taint each has picked up over all that time. Once attached they will not come free until all the pain they paid for has been transferred to the victim, even if this requires years for his body to heal enough before inflicting more upon him._

_The victim can not cast spells, not fight, nor even take their own life to escape this punishment from the coins. They can only endure their suffering until all the coins fall free, at which point I am told they appear as new and fresh as the very day they were first minted._

Needless to say I do not know if such a record is true except that it certainly fit the description precisely to what I myself observed. One way or another I have seen that I do not want to face the terrible wrath of the Vistani where one of their children is involved.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Fool**

**_From the Fall of Years 692 through 706 _**

**_Il' Aluk and Rivalis, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 14_**

My year of internship at the university was the easiest of my five, mostly because no one dared insult a possible member or informant of the Kargat. Upon reflection I do not know which was worse, being ridiculed by others just beneath their breath or being so openly feared so that no one dared to speak out of turn in my presence for fear of their lives. Some so inclined might tell you that the latter is a demonstration of ultimate power and therefore the better of the two but I will say in my eyes that it takes a special type of person to willingly accept or desire such solitude. I even wondered what King Azalin must truly feel knowing there were so few he can truly trust and none who would dare to speak against his wishes.

Thankfully I had Tess, Chanella, and especially Harmon close by during all of this and of course alternate weekly letters from Ingrid as well to see me through this time. Otherwise such solitude could only drive a person like me mad or bitter and likely turn their heart to performing evil. Instead my friends used this to tease me when we were alone, such as begging my forgiveness for speaking out of turn or asking repeatedly if they could serve me food or beverages due to my lofty nature of the position that I held in the community. Never once was there a hint of seriousness, most filled with ridicule, nor did I ever fail to smile at such antics.

As I said the year was normally dictated by acting as a resident intern at the college working with younger students. Almost of this of course Master Professor Westridge excused me from partaking of since all the other students and faculty were to afraid of me to dare speak and it therefore endangered our patients for me to be there. I understood this necessary precaution on her part so the days I was scheduled to work only Harmon and I, along with a professor as mentor who was always Westridge for I intimidated the faculty as well, would be in the clinic helping whatever patients came in. Thankfully the patients were not aware of my potential status or they likely would not have chosen to come in and all. By spring she had said both Harmon and I had mastered the these skills and we were no longer required to perform in the clinic so that our shifts could be passed along to others whose bedside manner or diagnosis skills left something to be desired.

We had not officially graduated yet, for both Harmon and I were required to attend the formal ceremony held on the first day of summer to be given our diplomas, but we were told that the few months until then were ours to do with as we desired. If we were going to be away from the campus for any length of time we were to check out with the clerk, who also now was rather in awe of me since I had brought down the former Master Professor all by myself which he had been unable to do much to General Athoul's disappointment. He never dared question what I chose to do with my time.

I split my efforts between some additional study, learning more about various theologies and planar theory as I always said I should do, and spending two week stretches at my home in Rivalis every month with Ingrid. By then she had our house clean and operating efficiently but still spent much of her days with her mother and my aunt who now shared a house as had been the plan since she was showing.

On one such trip my aunt informed me that due to her advancing age she decided upon my graduation she was going to retire at long last from the herbal cures business so as to not create undo competition for her only nephew. Words cannot begin to express the gratitude that I, and in truth many others in the village, received that news with. Thankfully she did promise to be there for consultation any time I faced an issue that was beyond my simple book learning experience. Again I had no words that could adequately express my feelings at knowing this.

We did contract with a local carpenter to have a small medical office built on one side of our house so that my place of work was close to my home, but still separated by a wall so that any infectious diseases would not be inadvertently brought into our home. I made sure Ingrid was instructed on very strict procedures of personal hygiene and proper disinfecting in the event she entered or decided to clean my office once I started seeing patients. She never balked at this saying that she would always remember so not to endanger our children or herself.

On that subject we watched our child grow within her overjoyed with the timing since Ingrid wanted to be a mother desperately, especially before her mother died, and of course this idea was hardly objectionable to me either though I feared the possibility of not being there for the birth. If anyone was well suited to such a life it was Ingrid. No one have I ever met who was so filled with love that she truly needed a child or many to share with this and keep her compassion from overflowing and letting it go to waste. No one could ever love so selflessly and completely as Ingrid. It is no wonder that I was considered the luckiest man in the village by all my peers, but especially by me!

I did see my first patients during that time as well, who did not mind that I did not currently have my diploma as long as I could take care of what ailed them. Humorously the first was a farmer with a broken leg who had according to his boys lost an altercation with his plow horse. The farmer's sons had brought him to my home after hearing what a healing prayer would cost them at the church or Erza and asked if I could splint the leg for their father instead. They looked at me quite skeptically when I sent one of them with the wagon they had arrived in back into town to seek some plaster from the stone mason and the other off to get some new linen from the weaver to cut into bandages for the treatment.

The farmer stayed with me as I boiled water and then looked closely at his leg, probing it a bit with my fingers to ensure the break was simple and there were no small shards of bone sticking into his muscles anywhere. I also explained to him what I was going to do and all that it would entail. Worst of all would be that I would be forced to cut up one seam of his pants leg and that he would have to do any others while the cast was on but since the tailor would be able to stitch this back together once the leg healed it was not a reason for additional complaint.

He looked skeptically once his sons returned and I began to mix and apply the plaster cast to his leg. Since it was a warm day anyway, instead of having him sit by a fireplace that I would not regularly start, I helped the boys carry him to a seat in the bed of the wagon where he would not jostle his cast and told them that it would likely be dry by the time they got home. I of course explained that he was to keep the cast and bandages clean, a near impossible task at a farm, and also dry, which was a completely impossible task at a farm, but his boys said that they would see to it that their father stayed off his leg and they would take care of all the chores until his leg was repaired. They were especially pleased when I explained that the break would likely be healed enough to remove the cast within a month and he could, if he was careful, resume most chores then at that point.

By the next week when I had left for college once more my fancy new cure was the talk of the village and more citizens were starting to stop by to say hello and offer Ingrid and I their blessing on our soon to arrive first child. And since they were already there they began as well to tell me about health issues they had been having lately. Ingrid and I quickly surmised that I would not have a lot of trouble staying busy in my chosen profession and that it was unlikely that money would be much of an issue for our family. It warmed my heart to see the look of pride she wore on her face each and every time I was able to help someone.

We of course began to immediately plan for our child's imminent arrival and do what we could to make ready such as preparing the baby's room, which had of course been my own as a child, and ordering clothes other necessities that followed a common enough process in our village. In fact it was so normal that Ingrid was scooped up by her mother and my aunt and they took care of the entire process because they understood these things, and because now that she was soon to deliver our child my role it seemed was delegated to primarily walking around the house and the village with a silly grin plastered to my face and make my wife cups of tea when she asked for it. The former came naturally and I stumbled through the latter without scalding myself or making too large of a mess in the process.

I also watched as my wife grew larger as our child within her grew as well. I can say here with all honesty that Ingrid positively glowed and especially once the baby began to squirm and kick almost constantly within her, reminding her wherever he mind might have been at the moment, of the miracle we had created that would soon be ours to hold.

I have heard other men just complain about the changes in their wives during this time and lament on how things would never again be the same. Perhaps this is part of some inherent historical complaint from the days we lived in caves that has been passed down repeatedly and now just accepted as truth. For me, however, I make no protests for I truly believe I never loved or desired my Ingrid more than when she was carrying my child. How any man can look upon his love in such a state in anything less than total infatuation is not only beyond my ability to understand, but truly not something I would even want to try and comprehend. To these holdover Neanderthals I simply state the obvious; you are stupid!

My even greater joy was that by the middle of April our child Erasmus was born and while I was without a doubt the most medically trained individual in the village, I was relegated to holding my wife's hand through the process by a tribe of midwives, many who were my own patients, who brooked no interference from a 'mere man' in this uniquely female experience. We had come to select the name Erasmus because it meant 'Beloved.' For me this had a double mean for not only was Erasmus beloved by his parents, but he was a living expression of the love we shared for each other as well. And when I watched my wife hold our child for the first time I felt that I had transcended some boundary and become truly complete for the first time in my life.

While the event was one of total and utter happiness for us, it came with a bitter pill to swallow as well. The lead midwife explained to me outside beyond Ingrid's hearing that Ingrid would likely never conceive another child again. My wife was a small woman, comparatively, to begin with and Erasmus was a large baby. His birthing had not been easy and while my wife's life was not in any danger, she had suffered injuries in the process that made conception unlikely and that I should put a hold to certain types of marital celebrations for a few months at least while she healed.

I of course accepted this, and realized we would be content just as my own parents had been to bestow all our love on a single child and fill him up to overflowing as we would have with a brood of mouths to feed as we had hoped for. I promised the midwife at her urging not to say anything of these injuries to Ingrid for many wives unable to conceive heap blame and guilt upon themselves for not being able to provide their husband's this motherly duty again. Some even take their own lives hoping their husbands would find a more deserving wife. I knew, looking down at sleeping Erasmus lying next to his exhausted mother that I would never do such a thing nor allow Ingrid the opportunity to do so wither. I was blessed to have them both in my life.

My time with them was far too short for my tastes, being only a month which took me into the nearly middle of May. By then of course preparations were underway for graduation and while I would be able to sneak in one more two week excursion at the end of the month so check up on my family, I would need to ensure all was ready for my final college ceremony. That time apart was some of the longest I have ever had to endure and in truth I lost weight with worry every minute of the days apart.

Thankfully the first day of summer finally arrived so our graduation came and of course I was prepared to attend. The University of Il' Aluk made this the highlight ceremony of the year and invited as many nobles and dignitaries to the event as possible. Master Professor Westridge informed me it was one of the highest donation drives for the school every year as well, likely because it was never advertised as one but rather when one donor's name was called out for their generosity toward the school a dozen others suddenly popped up so not to be outdone. I could hardly fault the utility then that such a ceremony provided the opportunity for.

The ceremony was of course for all the colleges graduates on the same day, which of course tended to draw out the event with too many, in my opinion, long winded speeches, but kept the process from recurring for weeks instead. Students like myself from the College of Medicine, ranked third in honors behind the College of Magic and the College of Theology, so we would be then the third from last to receive or diplomas making us have to sit through almost the entire event without a break.

As our turn came though there was an overpowering tingle in the air and upon the stage where none had been presently standing suddenly a man appeared in rich regal robes of deep purple, black silk gloves and wearing a silver crown adorned with a single large yellow gem in the center. He looked perhaps forty to fifty years of age though there could be no doubt that the figure who had appeared without flash or sound was none other than King Azalin Rex who had ruled over our land for centuries through his magic. Word of our guest's identity rushed in whispered voices through the crowd as one and all present bent down upon our knees in tribute. I motioned to Harmon and pulled him with me when I did so as well.

"I do not mean to interrupt so honored a ceremony." Azalin's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once but was spoken in a mid conversational level. "I merely wished to offer my own congratulations to the graduating class."

No one among the students, guests, or faculty was more surprised than the congregations of master professors from each college who were seated on the stage almost beside the king as well. While they too bowed immediately to his authority, they also to a man, or woman in Professor Westridge's case, offered their sovereign their chairs as proper protocol demanded so he would not have to stand.

The king smiled with an almost contemptuous wave for them to return to their seats and merely sat back on nothing more than air, making many of us think he was about to dent his royal backside but the very atmosphere around him seemed to cushion his body and become his own private chair even allowing him to go so far as to kick his legs up and have no part of his physical form actually in contact with the ground. From the mumbles I heard I assumed this display was a rather effective means of humbling the graduates of the College of Magic who did not have at their command as of yet such power to call upon and use without a seeming care.

It took a few moments for the next event to begin again and this being my own class's graduation portion I nearly missed recognizing when my name was called first to come receive my diploma. Had it not been for a well timed jab from Harmon's elbow I may have foolishly sat there and had my name called a second time, which I will say is not a particularly good way to make oneself known to their king by wasting their time.

I walked up the stage and shook hands with each of the master professors before receive my official certificate of lambskin from Master Professor Westridge and bowing to her and the other Master Professors before turning and bowing once more deeply and longer to the king who merely nodded once in acceptance.

"I will keep watch on you young Van Richten." Azalin's voice spoke in my head and made me pause an extra moment before standing up once more. "You have an aura of destiny about you. I have a feeling you will perform more useful services than merely saving my paltry life." I sensed his tone was offered with a hint of irony to it. I could feel a wave of bone chilling power he exuded being this close to my lord.

I realized then that King Azalin's reason for appearing here was partly to look in on the student who had a small but yet vital role in uncovering the threat on his life and even more so to display to the land and all of its people that he still lived if any other living conspirators might dare to think the attack had been successful. I stood up and walked off the stage, feeling his eyes on me the entire time judging me.

Harmon was called next and I watched him perform the same actions that I myself had just established on the fly. I especially watched for any reaction he might make to the king speaking into his mind, but he showed nothing, not even a tensing at this communication making me assume rightly that he had not received any such message as I had.

I watched carefully for the rest of my college's graduating class was called, by then there were only four others, and then that of theology and did not see any indication of further private communication. Only when the five graduating students from the College of Magic received their diplomas did I see that each and every one of them were also spoken to silently by our king. I of course have no idea what message was passed to each but by the way they all paled ever so slightly I have no doubt that it included both a statement of congratulations along with a subtle demonstration of his power compared to their own. Lord Azalin was said to tolerate other spell wielders in his land, but never ones he considered fools.

When the ceremony was completed, without a further word the king disappeared and simply as he had arrived. There was no flash or roar. He was simply gone between one second and the next. And I was left wondering if he would truly be keeping an eye on a simple village doctor as he had claimed. It was not something I wanted to dwell upon.

The true sorrow for me for that day was that I was saying goodbye to Harmon for likely a long time. His plans were to go forth within his own lands for a while and continue to perform further medical research and advance the science related to our career like he had done with the plaster cast. He promised of course to write, saying that I would likely be the one to have to try out his 'mad schemes' for him and report back my success so he could improve further upon them if necessary.

I too said I would keep him up to date on my own life and practice as well, though I admitted it would likely be boring speaking of broken bones and diseases compared to his research results. He looked oddly at me and spoke. "While you may be turning in your ghost hunting career for one of medicine Rudolph, I am not so certain the world is ready to let you live a peaceful life free from adventure." He laughed and we shook hands since he would leave early the next morning trying to get back to Lamordia and I would leave later with my farmer friend.

I also had to say farewell to Tess and Chanella as well but this was not so bittersweet as I knew the pair would write every other week as I myself would so I would stay abreast of what took place in their lives. I also promised to visit in the fall and spring every year since it would be good for me to see what other new practices the college had endorsed as well as purchase medicinal supplies that I could not get in Rivalis. I promised to also bring Ingrid and Erasmus along as I knew my wife was eager to meet the friends I had made, and have a face to connect to the stories of those I had spoken so highly about over the past five years. Chanella said this was good because she had a story or two to tell my wife as well.

We shared our hugs goodbye as I settled into the merchant's cart for his ride to Rivalis. Tess had provided me half a dozen books to read and send back as I could, promising more with each trip now that she knew where my interests for reading lay.

I had also surprised myself and bought the horse Tasha that I had used over the past few years to travel home quickly. I knew her to be a reliable animal and justified that I any of my patients lived outside of the village I may be required to attend them faster than I could walk so it would behoove me to have so reliable and animal at my disposal. Otherwise Tasha would spend her days grazing or providing entertainment for Ingrid and Erasmus once he was old enough to ride.

I smiled as I thought about the pair of them learning to ride and then other thought of my beloved wife and son, never realizing how much I could miss two people in just a few short days. By the time I pulled myself away from my reminiscing I found the our wagon was already beyond the gates of Il' Aluk and the not even the tops of buildings in the capital could be seen if I turned around to look for them.

I could of course see Castle Avernus rising up like a lonely giant of stone all by itself to the south and was still overcome by a sense of dread when I looked upon it. It reminded me of the first time Eldrenn and I had observed it years before on this same road but riding in a different wagon. Only this time my internal dread was accompanied by a voice in my head. "I will keep watch on you young Van Richten." If the voice speaking at that moment was new or instead just a holdover memory from graduation I cannot say in truth with any level certainty.

The summer of that year went by rapidly and was balanced by a mix of pride and sorrow by the time fall came about. For the former this focused around the fact that my practice was a near instant success and I literally saw patients the very first day that I returned for Il' Aluk. The first was the farmer whose cast I removed since it had taken a little longer than I expected for his bone to heal due to his advanced age. However once off, other than an increased level of body hair in this area, which I assured him was natural rather than some for of lycanthrope disease, his leg was fully usable once more. His word of mouth alone and his happiness of the result, plus similar advertisements from the few others that I had treated during the spring were enough to ensure my days were never too quiet and some even went long almost to dark to make sure I saw everyone who came to see me.

I sent letters to Tess and Chanella with every merchant shipment to share my good news with those I considered family as well and Tess's response two weeks later for each was congratulatory and filled with praise and excitement. She demanded that I promise to bring the Ingrid but especially Erasmus this fall so she could cuddle one more infant during her life for she found that she missed this simple joy most of all.

There was also a secret note in that delivery from Chanella telling me that Tess was dying. She said I was not to say anything about it in my letters because her mother had sworn her to secrecy on this and that she was violating that trust. But still the half elf girl felt that I had the right to know since I loved her as much as she did. It was not disease or injury that had caused this turn for the worst according to Professor Westridge who had looked at her, only the results of a long life well lived. By this point Tess was either a step away from or well into her ninth decade of life which was almost unheard of for anyone other than wizards such as our king with the ability to extend their lives or non-humans with longer life spans.

I of course notified Ingrid and since Erasmus was now four months old and healthy we agreed to pack up some clothes and return with the farmer on this very trip tomorrow without wait for the next one two weeks later as Chanella had expected. Ingrid and Erasmus would ride in the wagon and I atop Tasha would be riding along side. I made sure to notify all my patients and appointments for the coming weeks that there was an emergency to which I had to attend to immediately so I stayed open late that last night ensuring I saw those with appointments, even gong to their homes, that had conditions that should not be put off for such a length of time.

In a way I was thankful for this added work for it kept my mind off of my concerns for Tess for a few moments at a time at least. Ingrid and I slept fitfully that night, though Ingrid did what she could to comfort me and come sunrise we were awake and ready to depart.

The ride was long and plodding since I was riding beside the wagon and while Ingrid suggested that I ride ahead I refused explaining not only would I not leave them to the mercies of the road, but that if I did so Tess would surely scold me for this and I did not feel like disappointing two women in my life with a single selfish action.

Just after midday we arrived at the librarian's house, the farmer having asked more speed than usual from his faithful team of horses in response to my obvious concern for a woman he thought of as a friend as well. After unloading our bag of extra clothes and helping Ingrid and Erasmus down from the wagon I was knocking on the door and wondering how long it would take for someone to answer. Chanella appeared almost at once, still looking like a young teenager but obvious emotionally drained by maintaining a happy façade for her mother while likely crying rivers while Tess slept.

I made quick introductions and was sent on my way by Ingrid who told me to go see Tess and that she and Chanella would talk and catch up once we had our bags put away in the guest room once more. I was surprised that it was available knowing Tess had more than forty living relatives here in the city but it seemed that she had also ordered Chanella not to inform any of them to her impending passing either.

I found Tess asleep in her bed as I approached, noting she had lost weight and no longer looked as vigorous as she had when we first met years ago. I sat on the stood that Chanella had obviously been occupying and our arrival and took my surrogate mother's hand in my own.

She woke up and looked at me with a smile. "So Chanella told you." Were the first words out of her mouth. "Such a smart girl she has turned out to be."

"She is a beautiful and intelligent young woman now thanks to you Tess." I reminded her honestly. And that was true for Chanella would still be living on the streets, no longer a beggar but likely forced by circumstance to far worse self respecting roles had it not been for the kindness and love of this woman lying here.

"She always was Rudolph." She said trying to shrug off the good deed she had done as if it was of no importance but her soul knew the truth every time she looked now upon her child.

Tess was weak but I told her about my life, my practice, and most of all about Ingrid and Erasmus who I called into the room to introduce. The two hit it off at once, especially after Ingrid passed our child who was sleeping in his blanket over to Tess. And while I could see the conversation was stealing all of her energy, Tess would not allow me to interrupt and instead eventually sent me from the room to go check on Chanella.

As I did I heard her whisper to Ingrid. "You have the finest young man that I have ever known there. Never forget how fortunate you are." She said in a tone of motherly pride.

"I will not Tess." Ingrid responded and the two seemed to stop speaking all together as they shared that moment.

I will not belabor this area since Tess would tell me to say what I came to say and move on. Tess died that very night and both I and Chanella were there beside her holding her hands when she did. Her breathing was slow and relaxed as it should be and then all of a sudden simply stopped. There was no pain that I could see and she wore a smile upon her face, likely thinking of pleasant thoughts being surrounded by those who loved her at the very end. And I was swept up by a feeling that I was lucky, not only that I had arrived in time to say goodbye, but that I had been a significant part of such a god woman's life for as long as I had.

Some people like to say that you cannot interact with dark and evil people without some of their taint rubbing off on your soul as well. Perhaps that is true based on what I have read in the theology books that Tess had sent me. But here and now I will also state one cannot associate with someone of such a pure and giving soul as Tess's was without being uplifted and made a better person by it. While there are many in my life who had a significant impact to help shape me into the man I am, Tess shall always be one I think of as having helped to form my moral character by showing that by serving others even in simple things like educating them, do you serve and bring happiness to yourself. Thank you my adopted mother for teaching me all that you did. May you watch over me and may I never let you down.

We of course stayed for Tess's funeral, and unlike the regular citizens of Il' Aluk the university board, which was made up of the master professors of each college, voted unanimously to allow her to be buried there on the campus as she had asked for. Tess's request was that there be no marker for her grave, only that she be allowed to find her eternal peace in the place she had spent so much of her life. No one could find fault in honoring in this way a woman who had given so much to the university.

Being Darkon, certain prudent precautions were still taken. First the Master Professor of the College of Theology called in markers with the established churches in Darkon and all laid blessings upon Tess's material remains to ensure her spirit went on to its deserved rest rather than being trapped in a body as some future undead creature. The College of Magic enchanted protections on her coffin against theft and the ravages of time as well. And finally we who loved her best, including Ingrid who had only just met her, prayed over her body and we each came away with a feeling that her soul was truly at peace.

As for the business of the university, Chanella was nominated by Master Professor Westridge to fill Tess's position at the school. While she still looked like a girl of sixteen years or so due to her half elven heritage, she was in fact two years older than me so by the rules she met the age requirement for the position. There was no doubt in any of the assembled members of the university board that the girl certainly knew what that level of the library contained better than anyone else alive.

Chanella also spoke the eulogy for Tess and did so with a simple poem she had written which I have transcribed here:

_Thank you for giving me a chance_

_And letting me laugh and sing and dance_

_But now you are gone_

_You took care of me for so long_

_Life was so hard_

_When you found me in your yard_

_I'm sorry that it went this way_

_I wish it could change every single day_

_You did not care where I came from_

_Thank you so much, I love you mom_

The faculty staff was so moved by this simple out pouring of feeling, by her charm, her beauty, and her intelligence, all things I might add that Tess had cultivated and made to bloom like the greatest of florists, that each of them soon began to actively recruit and entice the girl to become a student in their college. Even the College of Magic that required proof of a student's gift in the Art, waived this saying that her elven heritage nearly assured she had been born with such a gift.

Chanella sought my council on this and when I asked her what it she truly wanted to do with her life she said only that she wanted to make her mother proud of her and keep up the traditions of service to others she had established. In the end, since her full tuition had been paid for, she decided to join the College of Liberal Arts, focusing not on any one subject or occupation like the other colleges tended to, but instead creating a broad swath of knowledge that cut across all of these at once.

No one was more surprised by her choice than the Master Professor of the College of Liberal Arts since his was the least respected of all the programs at the university. His students were often made up of those who had failed out of other courses or were those unable or undisciplined enough to see them through completing the requirements of other colleges. One of the four students in my class that had failed out chose this course rather than accepting being sent back a year or more.

The exception to this student body were a small number of prospective bards who also selected this college as well for the very reasons that Chanella did, to get a broad understanding of the world as a whole before going out into it to seek their fortune. I recalled how Chanella had taken a strong interest in bardic stories and could not help but wonder if one day she would take such a role upon herself as well.

I will state that Chanella's selection of this college actually increased its prestige among the other colleges and I had little doubt that if she showed the promise those who knew her expected of her there would soon be many requests for her upon graduation to take her mother's dream one step further and become a member of the faculty of that school. To her would go the responsibility of rather than just finding the books young minds requested, to actually assign them where required to open these young men and women up to the wonders of what the printed word contained within their depths. Both Ingrid and I agreed that her mother would be proud of Chanella the day she took up this post. And true to my suspicion, in only three and a half years that is exactly what happened.

I get a little ahead of myself by finishing out that part of the story so let me return now to my own life for the remainder of that year and beyond. In fact though there is little to tell for that fall and winter leading into spring except that I treated patients as I had been trained to making me a well respected member of the community, especially since my personal finances were such that I could afford to let people slide for a month or two I paying me when their own issues were not as well off.

Over the next half dozen years or so my life settled into a comfortable routine, or as much of one as any village doctor might be blessed with. I saw patients and loved my wife and son who grew at rates that seemed impossibly fast to me but which I know all parents feel.

There were no more ghosts in my life and in fact I even began to forget there had ever been such adventuresome days for me except of course when Chanella's occasional letter, she was never as structured as Tess was about such things, arrived and reminded me of them. This was especially funny when the _Ghost Axe of Gildabarren _play came back through town in the year six hundred and ninety nine.

By that time the play had so changed that I did not even recognize many of the events they depicted except that there were still dwarves involved and the hero was still the mighty wizard Mumford the Magnificent Mage Extraordinaire! The two young boys he had saved in the earlier version of the play were no longer a part of this likely to save money on extra cast as well as no one ever understood the role these served in the performance anyway. I still thoroughly enjoyed myself even though Ingrid did have me explain to Erasmus my own role in the real events once we got home.

To keep me ever humble my son looked on as I told him this story and at its conclusion said 'that is neat dad, can I go outside and ride Tasha now?' He loved horses at that point but more importantly such was the crown my adventures had created that I was allowed to wear in my own house.

In the summer of the year seven hundred I did receive a letter from Harmon who brought me up to date on his own research efforts. I was of course happy to hear from my friend since our contact had been sporadic over the years and usually tied to seeking information from me or sending me his newest invention along with detailed instructions for its use and upkeep. This letter was no different than those except in the enormity of the implication of what he sought. I've included the relevant parts here:

"… _I cannot help but think Rudolph of our graduation ceremony and the sudden appearance of your king at these events. If he is truly as old as you claim him to be, and my friend I never was one to doubt any of your words after having participated on some your adventures, then I must assume he has magically found a way to stop the physical effects of both aging and possibly even death!_

_The implications of such a thing for our own profession are mind boggling. To be able to offer such a gift to a patient, to take away their fears of growing older or of catching something as horrible as The Crimson Death would be to give mankind a new opportunity to rise above mortality's chains that hold us as slaves and allow true intellect to prosper once and for all. Think about the knowledge and goodwill an individual could accomplish if such a lifetime were never to come to an end?_

_Wars and greed would be things of the past for people would not feel the desire to have everything today if they were certain a lifetime of tomorrows would be just as available to them to enjoy. And think of not having to say goodbye to loved ones before their time had come because in truth there as no longer 'a right time to die.'_

_I know that your king is a powerful wizard so his access to immortality is through his magic that he commands, but I also know that magic often merely mimics natural events. Mayhap this is one of those events where the components used in the spell actually provide the longevity. Even if they would not bestow true immortality, how many would thank us for extending their lives longer than the decades we are born with?_

_So I ask you what you know of any of this from your research, since you were always more encompassing in your study subjects than I myself was. And if you know little now, might you seek from Tess anything she may know about these subjects and provide me through your educated eyes those leads you feel show the greatest promise. Our names would be spoken of for centuries to come I am certain…"_

My own letter back to him was filled with caution but what little I knew of the subject, mainly that is was magical in nature therefore unlikely to be easily replicated. I also told him of Tess's death, partly since I knew he cared for her and partly as a caution about mortality. I was therefore shocked not to receive any word in response since I know he respected her as much as I did. As I thought over this I suspected that upon learning of the loss of a friend, this only dedicated him all the further to find the answers to the mystery of life he now was seeking.

But while I heard noting from him, his letter did remind me how I missed a colleague with which to discuss things. This is no way a statement that Ingrid was any less a friend to me that she had always been, and while she of course spent her time with Erasmus as any god mother would, she never neglected me and always made certain that I had her full and complete attention when our schedules permitted such.

But noting such a missing piece in my life kept me on the lookout on some level and resulted eventually of me taking a young villager of apprentice age by the name of Antonin Madren under my wing one summer because he had shown an interest in what I did for the village.

Antonin was the sixth of fifteen children and since he was quickly coming of age to be expected to help provide his father wanted to apprentice him off in order to have one less mouth to feed. I learned of this and before the boy was signed into indenture to a local tailor which was his only other likely course, I approached his father, a man I had diagnosed a certain monthly prescription of saltpeter to since the birth of his fifteenth child, and mentioned casually that I myself was looking for an assistant to help me in the office and learn the basics of the trade in exchange for a reasonable wage so that I might focus more upon my patients. I asked him to keep alert for anyone of intelligence who would fit the bill and send them my way.

By the next morning I found Antonin at my door, first in line to be seen, and on strict order from his father to do whatever necessary to convince me he would make a good assistant. My interview with him was fairly succinct and honest.

"Antonin I am aware why you are here." I said trying to relax the boy since he seemed ready to faint over this ideal job interview. "You already have the assistant job at slightly more than apprentice wages but I want a single honest answer from you first before we begin."

He literally gulped likely wondering what terrible question I was about to ask him. "Go ahead Doctor Van Richten."

"Fine." I smiled trying to calm him and not obviously succeeding. "Do you want just a job or do you want to truly learn how to cure people?" I asked seeing his eyes open up wide.

"More than anything sir I want to become a doctor!" He said reminding me of the fire I had at his age and earlier for this as well. "But my father cannot afford to send me to college what with my younger brothers and sisters sir." His eyes cast down in embarrassment.

"I understand so here is what I am willing to offer you." I tried to sound stern but inside I was actually smiling at this prospect. "You will come work for me at a salary level which I decide. I will send home with you your normal apprentice wages so your father knows you are performing properly. The rest I will set aside. When it reaches the point that you can pay for tuition I will send you to see the Master Professor of the College of Medicine in Il' Aluk and try to arrange your enrollment."

By this point the boy had nearly fainted with wonder of all his dreams coming true.

"Wait." I said trying to bring him back to reality. "In exchange you will perform those tasks I assign you and when not doing any such thing you will study those texts that I provide you and which I will test you on to ensure you are reading not just turning pages." I tried to be as forceful sounding as possible, thinking that this may one day come in handy with Erasmus as well. "I will not put my own reputation on the line with the very university that I graduated from if I do not feel you will perform well." Actually with my reputation, him not be associated with me was the better course of action but I was not going to tell him that.

He accepted all of these conditions and I began to teach him how to treat patients. Within a year he was starting to suggest what the patients' conditions likely were and even probable treatments for the most common ailments. I of course supervised him but was happy to see this level of progress in so short a time period.

Within five years, the year seven hundred and six, I had secured for him an enrollment in the College of Medicine and paid for his first year of tuition out of the funds I had set aside. Master Professor Westridge and Chanella agreed to keep me constantly apprised of his progress at school and other than an incident involving a noble losing two teeth over an ill time comment about peasants from outlying villages, neither of my friends was able to raise any complaints about his performance.

Professor Westridge was even so impressed that she asked me how best we might devise a means to find other such 'jewels in the rough' throughout the land of Darkon since she firmly believed the role of her college was to create good doctors not merely to provide a career path to 'snot nose noble whelps with no compassion and no future.' I promised to look into it and we agreed the best beginning was to advertise that two positions at least for every year would be set aside for these students. The cost of their tuition may be an issue but between college donors, alumni, faculty, and myself I was certain we could raise the yearly funds to meet these basic needs. Who knows, I told her, perhaps my own son would one day take one of these slots. Professor Westridge said if she had any say over it Erasmus Van Richten would be accepted the year he was old enough to apply.

This was good to know because by this time Erasmus had turned fourteen and was now spending much of his time with me as well, taking over the doctor's assistant duties Antonin had held in exchange for apprentice wages which were in reality his allowance anyway. Ingrid would come and watch us work together, father and son and beam over the scene. I would occasionally see teary eyes and prolonged sighs of sad jealousy over not having a daughter to dress up and play with and teach to be a young lady as I was teaching Erasmus to be a man. But in these moments I never failed to send my son to her to make her smile and wrap him up in her loving arms.

Yes indeed the summer of seven hundred and six was one of the very happiest of my life.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Fool**

**_October of Year 706 _**

**_Rivalis, Darkon _**

**_Chapter 15_**

It was a Friday in October when my life changed dramatically for all time. I was in my clinic, having seen my last patient an hour or so earlier for the day. After that I had went to have dinner with Ingrid and Erasmus, something we made sure to do every night together. I of course assisted with the dishes and then I told Ingrid that I was going to return to my office and complete the full inventory of my medical supplies. This was an important task to complete in fall so that in the coming weeks I could ensure to stock up on those we used most often in the winter months and I could acquire them by ordering through the merchant in a reasonable amount before the winter snows came and would make his travel more difficult.

Ingrid told me to hurry with my work and that she would put Erasmus to bed at his normal time. If I happened to finish before she fell asleep then perhaps we could hold another discussion about expanding our family. I kissed her and went to my work with due diligence and a desire to complete this task at a reasonable time.

I was so involved in pursuing this goal that I never heard the sounds of the wagons approach or any words that my visitors have been spoken outside my door. I know only at one moment I was measuring teaspoons of aspen bark powder and the next I felt a cool wind across my back as if I had left the door open. I turned to look to ensure to myself that I had indeed closed and locked it when I noted people were standing there in my doorway blocking any sight from the light of evening beyond.

"Who?" I began more out of shock than any real desire to know the identity of those standing at my door. They were Vistani as one simple glance told me for all the members of the tribe had the same dark hair and swarthy skin that their race was known for and were of course dressed in the mix of bright colored and black silks.

I had not laid eyes on one of their people in nearly a decade and a half since the trio had visited me in my dorm room. By their words that afternoon I had though the debt between us paid in full for not only had I fulfilled their task of exposing the one behind the death of their child, but I had even allowed their curse, Vistani justice, to exact punishment for his crimes in the process. I know not what else I was expected to pay for a simple tarot reading because even the strong moral heart my father had bestowed upon me said without question that our books between us were in balance.

I thought then though of the terrible coins and what these had done to Master Professor Gunther and shuddered. While I admit the punishment was certainly worthy of all his crimes, the horror of watching it transpire before my eyes was still an occasional nightmare that would wake me from my sleep in the middle of some nights and not let me find rest once more until I was sure the sun had risen. So while I felt justified to dispute any claim they felt they had on me, I certainly was willing to hear them out and see what fair arrangement we might come to.

I feared as well that their mere presence here in the village and especially in my shop might alert the Kargat and envelop my family into more such adventure like in my youth than I wanted. In truth by this point I was more than happy now to have put this part of my past behind me once and for all. I only hoped that due to the lateness of the hour and the fact I lived on the outskirts of the village no one would know that they had come to see me if I could complete any transaction between us fast. Hopefully anyone who may have observed them when they entered our town would think they were merely passing through along the road not coming here specifically.

"You are Doctor Van Richten." The old matron of the tribe spoke as a statement to acknowledge she knew me rather than as an inquiry to my identity. While I had never met her personally like the other matrons of the Vistani I had me her judgmental eyes bored into me and I felt as if all my secrets, which thankfully I have few, were placed on display before those cold dark eyes. I also felt a tingle of fear that I had never before sensed in the presence of their kind. That she exuded power was no surprise and in fact by now I had come to expect such, but there was a cold and ruthless feel about that with her that made me shiver reflexively.

"I am he." I responded though I knew it was unnecessary to admit to being such. At that moment I simply desired another sound, even if it was merely my own voice to break the deathly silence and chill of evil that seemed to fill my office.

She did not even acknowledge my words but turned instead to the tall broad shoulder elder Vistani man standing beside her and spoke a terse command. "Bring him."

The man moved without question as did two other younger men who had stood more or less in his shadow. I dared not speak again and draw those cold eyes of hers back to me so I waited patiently as the matron sat down upon one of the benches I had for patients in my outer office. The cane she used for walking now rested between her feet with both her hands upon the handle as she turned to look in my direction once more.

"I am aware _giorgio_ that you at least understand the value that we place upon our children." She spoke aloud once more without a hint of emotion in the statement even when using their term for 'outsider' that most of the Vistani spoke filled with scorn. Still unsure of what was happening and having once more the image of those hungry coins sucking the very life from a more powerful man right before my eyes I could only nod dumbly as a response and wait for her to finish her explanation. I could hear from beyond more than a dozen voices however speaking while they accomplished the task the old woman of their tribe had set for them.

"My son Radovan is very sick and beyond my own powers to heal." She explained. "I have brought him here to you for your fame is such that you are likely his only chance. Do not disappoint the hope that I have for you in this doctor."

As if on cue the three men who had gone outside returned carrying a fourth even younger man, perhaps a year or two younger than myself, between them. Even with the dark clothes he wore I could see the blood that dripped from his mouth and stained the front of his silk shirt darker still. The silk clung wetly to his body making me fear just by the amount of blood the boy had lost that he may already be in shock and too late to save by any means I might have at my disposal.

I pointed them to the only other door in the room, the one that led to my examination area, and ordered them to put him down on the table inside while I started to ask questions. I hoped to learn quickly what the source of the issue was for it did not appear that her son would be long for this world if he was not treated quickly and properly.

"How did Radovan get like this?" I asked first hoping to know the cause of this condition as quickly as possible so I might take the proper precautions not only for the patient but for the rest of us as well in the event that the sickness was contagious.

"He was bitten by an animal yesterday on his leg." The oldest of the three men explained as an answer. "It appeared to us to be nothing more than a scratch and he swore he did not feel odd in any way. Nana also looked to the wound but it did not appear to contain poisons for there was no harm to the skin beside the punctures."

That was good news for if he had been suffering for some odd form of poison then there was likely little I could do for him. Treatments for some poisons were literally toxic if used for others so often it was best not to treat an unknown one at all and instead let the body fight off this toxin all by itself. Thankfully there were few natural creatures whose venom could take down a full sized man as well, so it likely would have worked itself out of his body after making him sick for a period of time.

"By nightfall Radovan began to complain of chills, though it was nearly an unbearably humid night." The elder man continued his story. I nodded at this, deducing that this attack therefore had not taken place in Darkon but somewhere far to the south, for humid nights had faded away her more than to months ago. It also meant the creature that bit him may not be native to my own land meaning I likely new nothing of it.

"By morning we could not awaken him even after Nana tried every spell of healing the body, mind, and spirit on him that she knew of." I could only assume that Nana was the name, real or partial, for the old woman who claimed to be this young man's mother.

"An hour ago he began to cough up blood as you can see so we raced here to see what _giorgio_ medicines might be able to accomplish." The father finished his history of these events.

"What type of creature bit him?" I asked bending over to look closely at the wound. While it was still not scabbed over, it did not appear either puffy with infection or enflamed from poison, the two most common effects of such attacks. I did note though that someone had used the very tip of a dagger to inscribe a pentagon inside a circle directly over the wounded area. I knew this from my medical studies to be part of a widespread mythology as a treatment for the disease of lycanthropy. Since our text books were without evidence they scoffed at the disease itself even existing much less this cure but I myself was hardly in a position to do any such thing now.

"

A rat we think." The elder man answered and as I looked close I could see that this was indeed a possibility. The wound looked to be made by a quick sharp nip and run type of attack that these creatures were known for when mad with hunger.

Knowing all this I breathed a sigh of relief for while it may not help the patient at least I was now fairly certain whatever Radovan had contracted it was not a contagious disease that could be passed on to others. I worried not only for myself as I treated him but also for the other members of his tribe who had tended to him this entire day. Had this been something as deadly as the Crimson Death, then all of the tribe would now likely be infected and most would be dead in two or three days.

I considered perhaps that the attacking rat had been rabid and passed this disease along in its bite. I had heard such things were possible, and now the boy may be suffering from that transfer himself. That would make the curing difficult but not impossible. However I needed to know more and after seeing the wound I turned instead to his other vital signs as I had been trained to do. In medicine the wrong step is almost always worse than taking no action so doctors liked to err on the side of caution.

I checked his pulse and found his heart beat to be strained and his skin becoming clammy. My worst fear was that he had lost too much blood for any treatment of the disease to even have a chance, but even then I was not without options. I went to a cupboard and pulled out a small box that I had used rarely but might mean the difference right now between the boy's life and death. That was providing the members of his tribe were willing to volunteer to help save his life.

I pulled from the box a device ingeniously made originally from a small fireplace bellows, some pigs' intestines, and a pair of sharp needle like spikes that Harmon had made for me as a successfully result of his research. To date I had used this device twice and both times with complete success so I hoped today would not break this trend.

"Who are the closest ties of blood to Radovan?" I asked looking at the three men.

At once the two younger boys both raised their hands. "We are his cousins from his mother's side." The first explained.

"Does he not have any siblings near to his age?" I was disappointed by the initial response.

The three men paused and then all shook their heads no.

"What of his father?" I asked also.

"His father, my brother, is dead these past eight years." The older man explained.

"Then cousins and uncles it will have to be." I said as I began to connect the various parts as the detailed drawn instructions Harmon had sent me explained.

I pointed to a pair of chairs and told each young man to remove their shirt and take a seat for I would require their aid if I were to attempt to save their cousin's life. I then told the uncle to stoke up a fire in this room's fireplace for what I planned to do would require sterilization which fire provided and heating the room, both of which would be solved only by a roaring fire.

This moment of delay reminded me of another waiting for my attention and I was suddenly torn b where my duties best lay.

"I need to go speak with my wife." I said trying to take my leave for a moment. But the old woman's voice called out from the waiting room and stopped me.

"That will be unnecessary doctor." She said. "Both your wife and son are now asleep in their beds and neither will awaken before daybreak." I dared not ask how she knew this, but of course being Vistani she likely had means beyond what I would be able to explain anyway. While still light out at least this gave me comfort that Ingrid would not grow inpatient waiting for me and come out to look at how long I would be only to find a tribe of Vistani vardos, a dozen or more of their members, and maybe even a dancing bear or two sitting on our front lawn as if this were just another place for them to camp. I hoped the magic they used would not cause my family nightmares in the process.

I returned my focus to the patient and the two bare-chested gypsies who sat looking at me with obvious confusion on their faces. That confusion turned to outright skepticism once they noted the pair of long nail like steel needles sticking out from each end of the contraption that I carried toward then and placed on a small table near to the patient.

"Your cousin has lost a lot of blood." I explained trying to show them my need for their participation in this. "He will certainly die if this imbalance is not arrested immediately. Even by giving him blood all we do for certain is prolong his life by this action. But hopefully this will be enough extra time to find the cure for what truly ails him."

"What does that have to do with us?" The closer of the two seated by my contraption asked. "Certainly you do not expect us to let him drink our blood like some vampire?"

I scoffed at this. "Hardly." I replied. "First of all the blood needs to go into his heart and not to his stomach so that type of transfer would not be a useful means for us." I lifted up the pieces and was careful to explain their purpose and function. "Instead what I will do is stick this needle in your arm and draw forth a small amount through this tube by use of this pump." I pointed to the pig's intestines connected to the bellows. "I will not take much, perhaps a mug of tea's worth from each of you ad place it from there into Radovan's body." I explained. I could tell from the looks they gave me that I may not look like a vampire in form, but after this description of my intentions the pair was certainly willing to classify me in the same category.

"If the infection that has caused his illness is in Radovan's blood will this not then infect my sons as well?" The older Vistani man asked. Once again such references to diseases of the blood suggested lycanthropy mythology so I had a feeling I now knew who had made the warding circle around the wound on Radovan's leg.

"No." I said. "The pump will only allow blood to flow in one direction so there is no chance of blood transfer back to your sons." By its design I was fairly certain of this being true but I was not about to let any reason for doubt enter the conversation.

"I am not doing it!" The closer stood and backed away from me, the device, and his chair all at once.

"You will or you shall be exiled." Nana's voice spoke with deadly intent from the next room.

The boy turned to his father with a pleading look in his eyes but he found no sympathy for his position. "She has spoken on this subject. Her word is law. Would you dare to defy it?"

That question seemed to replace the fear of the boy that he held for my machine with a far greater one he held for Nana it seemed by the way that his eyes opened up wide at this comment. Without another word he sat back on the chair as he had been directed, closing his eyes, and mumbling repeatedly what I took to likely be a Vistani prayer.

I stuck the needle first into Radovan's arm since his veins were all so visible looking like blue lines running beneath pale papery skin. I then turned to the young man who was lost in prayer, lifting his arm up and laying it on the arm of the chair he sat in. I then tapped on the inside of his elbow to find the best target to stick with the other side of the device and slowly pressing the needle in so not to go too far. In fairness to the lad he stoically took the pain with only a minor pause in his prayers to suck in a breath between clenched teeth. "My experience suggests you should keep your eyes closed and not look at this process or you may faint."

The second time I had used this device it was for a father giving blood to save the life of his daughter. Oddly enough the man's profession was that of a butcher so I had not thought he would have any issues with observing blood based on where he spent most of his days. I however was completely wrong. Moments after sticking him and beginning the transfer treatment the rather large man turned to look at his arm and saw his blood being pulled from through the device and literally slumped to the ground in total unconsciousness. Thankfully he fell and slid in such a way as to not pull the needle from his arm in the process. After checking on him and determining he had merely fainted, I finished the transfusion of blood, bandaged his arm, and then woke him up. He merely thanked me and I never mentioned the awkward situation to him or anyone else beyond Ingrid.

Harmon had designed this device so that the bellows would pull only a cup's worth of blood at a time and had measure the pig's intestines specifically to hold only that much on each side of the bellows. That way once the entire device was full I knew for certain the amount being transferred would not endanger the donor who in most cases could lose twice this amount without too much issue or danger.

Once the tubes were filled I drew the needle from the praying gypsy and handed him a linen bandage for the wound. I then instructed him to keep his arm above his head for a slow count to one hundred at which point the bleeding would likely have stopped.

Meanwhile I turned back to the device and now fed this life giving liquid into the body of Radovan slowly so not to burst his veins. Harmon had explained to me the preferred reason for using close family members for the transfer is that his tests had shown that patients did not always accept the blood donated by others. The chances for successful transfer increased by using the blood of relatives it seemed and the closer the better in most cases.

Once the fluid was inside of him I checked Radovan's heartbeat once more and found that while still not steady, it had at least improved from where it had been. Using this as a basis I sterilized the needle with a burning twig, cooled the metal in water so that it would not burn the next donor's skin, and then repeated the sticking and draining process on the second cousin as well. He was not as quiet as his brother had been and used an odd Vistani word upon being stuck that I can assume would be translated into a word I would not repeat here as well.

Once again upon completion of the entire process I checked the sick man's vitals and found still more improvement. I then ordered the uncle to take off his shirt and sit in the chair as well and once more I cleaned my equipment of any possible transfer of disease before sticking this man and transferring yet a third pint of donated blood into the body of Radovan.

Now, no longer fearful of shock taking the young gypsy's life before I found the true cause of his ailment I turned back and began a more thorough examination as I had been trained to do. His eyes, breathing and reflexes all appeared normal. It was only when I placed my ear to his back to listen to his lungs as he breathed that I finally knew at least partially what it was that I was dealing with. With each expansion of his chest to draw in more air, I heard as well the telltale sound of crackling, not completely unlike parchment being crumpled, that told me without a doubt that the boy's lungs were filling up with liquid. This was bad for based on the look and feel of his shirt I knew this liquid was blood.

I began to call out to his mother but instead turned at some sixth and found that the elder gypsy woman the rest referred to as Nana was now sitting in this room on one of the chairs the donors had waited in. Her ability to move without me sensing her until now and being where she was needed frightened me on some primal level.

"There is nothing further that I can do for your son." I said hoping my caring tone would demonstrate my sympathy for her in this moment. "His lungs fill with liquid and soon there will be no place for air unless his body reverses this trend on its own."

"Then drain them." She said. I knew of no way to do such a thing beyond placing him on his side and hoping his body would do so on its own. I had already done so and it showed no signs of solving this problem.

Some distant part of my mind said that this would be a worthy suggestion for research to send to Harmon to look into. How could a doctor drain a patient's lungs without killing them in the process?

"I know of no other means to do this." I said honestly. "All I can do is ease his pain. He may recover on his own but it is now out of my hands and in those of your gods."

She turned her eyes away from the body of her son and directly on to me. "Do not mention my gods for they are the very reason we are in this position doctor!" Her words rose in tone while anger began to flush upon her face. "If you have such faith in the divine then I suggest you seek out your own gods then and beg of them to help my son. For if he dies then I will place the displeasure of the Radanavich clan upon your doorstep _giorgio_ for yet another Vistani child taken from us."

The thought of what she said struck me harder than any blow I had ever received. For the first time ever I truly feared for my life and my soul. I know that seems odd based on the numerous encounters I had with ghosts and other undead in my youth, but in those days I was still immortal or at least rarely had any time to think through the possibilities of failure and what such an event would mean to my health and well being. Now, especially now, when I knew there truly was nothing I could do beyond pray to any benevolent god who might be listening to have mercy on this young man's soul and my own fate as well by healing him a part of my mind thought over the horrors the Vistani might subject me to in punishment for my failure to save this woman's son. Once again blood sucking coins burned in my mind.

I tried flipping the boy over onto his stomach and pushing our the liquid as one might to do a person who had almost drowned, hoping at least that he would cough away enough liquid to allow his lungs to breath easier once more. But unlike normal pneumonia where the lungs fill mostly with water, it was instead blood that occupied these spaces and when blood and fresh air mixed this liquid began to harden and gel. When coughs did come poor Radovan was in essence trying to dislodge a scab inside of himself merely by coughing. While his effort to survive was worthy of praise it was a feat beyond the ability or strength remaining in his body.

Less than two hours after their mysterious arrival the sick Vistani boy they had brought to me as their last hope lay dead upon my examination table and there had been almost nothing I had done except perhaps extend his life for that short period of time. At his death the other members of the tribe, namely the uncle and his two sons, backed out of the room leaving me alone with Radovan's grieving mother.

"You failed us Rudolph Van Richten." She said with all the grief that a mother who has just lost a child is filled with. She needed an outlet for her rage I knew, and since the gods were unwilling to come forth and accept the blame for this, then I was the only remaining target.

"I did all I could for him, you saw that yourself." I pleaded.

"Did you?" She asked. "Then why is my son dead?"

"There was nothing more I could do."

"Yes and here in the land of Darkon where your citizens get rewards for turning over our kind, how much do you thing your king will reward you for letting another of our number die?" Grief was turning into rage at yet another target that was beyond her ability to strike at.

"There was nothing more that I could do!" I repeated my plea for a third time.

"So you say as you count your king's gold in your mind." I knew then she was beyond reason and would curse me like Gunther had been cursed. I dared not try to strike out for her tribe would come to her aid and I am hardly a fighter regardless of how many ghosts and undead I may have put to rest. I could only plead and hope it might strike some compassionate part of her otherwise grieving soul.

"Please Madame Radanavich take anything of mine that you desire but do not place your curse upon me." I fell to my knees seeing in my mind those blood sucking coins or other even worse horrors of which I could not even imagine. I was truly beyond just fear and begged at the old woman's feet not even daring to raise my eyes.

It seemed like an eternity as I quivered and groveled at her feet, but each moment was another for me to live and for her I hoped to accept my offer. We likely spoke not to each other for five minutes or more until at last her voice, more controlled but every bit as filled with menace as before filled the room once again.

"I accept the terms of your offer Rudolph Van Richten." She spoke at last and turned away leaving me to grovel still longer upon the floor. "No curse of mine shall I place upon you. But you will live always with the results of your failure this night to torture your memories."

Without another word she left the room and I stayed on the floor thanking the gods for their mercy on my behalf. I dared not move for many minutes, figuring I would stay out of the gypsies' sight and therefore not be the target of any lingering rage. It was only after hearing their wagons creaking away down the road that I dared to hope I had truly survived this evening. I still gave them even more time before I stood, and longer still before I dared to exit my office and seek the safety inside of my home.

I am not usually a drinking man by trade, but one client of mine had paid me in brandy, which though his business he supplied, and I needed a drink or two to steady my nerves once more. One quick glass helped reduce my shaking, and the second larger one got me back to almost breathing normally. And while I considered a third, I thankfully placed the stopper back in the bottle and turned for my own room once more to rest and put this evening behind me. I knew I had materials to clean in my office but those could wait until morning. Right now I needed to hold my Ingrid close and hope that dreams of this evening's events would not follow me to sleep.

As I passed Erasmus's room I chanced to glance in since it was odd for him to have left his door open. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the reality that my boy was not in his bed where he belonged. I pushed open the door fully, hoping to see him asleep in a chair or bundled up on the floor but he was no where to be seen.

I went at once to my own room hoping he had climbed into bed with Ingrid and slept there as he had when he was still five years old, but there was no sign of him, only that of my wife, lying peacefully in her slumber and totally unaware of her missing son. I now searched the entire house, hoping to find some sign of him but there was none.

I thought at once to what had happened and I knew then after a moment of reflection that Madame Radanavich had taken my offer of anything I owned to include Erasmus. Of course such a trade could not have ever been further from my mind but like my father had said it was always important to be careful in your dealings.

I thought at once to having to tell Ingrid of what had happened and the price we had paid and I knew I could not do it. While I feared Madame Radanavich and the powers at her command, I feared even more breaking the heart of my beloved Ingrid or failing my son Erasmus. As I said we had chosen his name, which meant beloved, because he was not only our beloved child but also because he was the proof of the love I had with my beloved Ingrid. I'd not let her see me as a failure to living up to this love.

The gypsies had claimed that my wife would sleep until morning and while there was still and hour left before nightfall I hoped that I would be able to catch up to the Vistani, retrieve my boy, and be home before she even awoke. In case it took longer than that I left a note saying only that I was with Erasmus, which by the time she saw it I knew would be truth, and that we would return to her in short order.

I saddled Tasha and as an afterthought strapped the body of Radovan across the back of the horse as well to demonstrate I had no intentions of collecting a reward for his corpse. I took off toward the west, for that seemed the way the wagons had been headed from what I had heard as I sat on the floor of my clinic.

I paused in my pursuit only for a moment when I saw Old Belandolf my neighbor to the west outside of his own home finishing a late trip to his vegetable cellar.

I called to him a late evening greeting and asked if he had seen three wagon pass by not long ago and he admitted he had, no more than an hour before. I noted his eyes went to the body strapped to the back of my horse and he asked me if everything was alright.

I simply said no. Nothing in the entire world was right at the moment. But the gods and Tasha willing I would set it all right again this very night!


	17. Chapter 17

**The Fool - This part of story from Tales of Ravenloft - Cruicible of Reduoph Van Richten**

_**October of Year 706 **_

_**Rivalis, Darkon and Barovia **_

_**Chapter 16**_

My pursuit led me after the Vistani who by the path they had taken I expected were headed eventually toward the border with Lamordia and now for the woods that lay along this path for providing shelter this night. Of course time was hardly on my side since it had been so late in the evening already when I departed but still I found now signs of my gaining on them.

As Darkon's skies drew ever darker, deepening past indigo and receding even further past the ruddy backward reach of approaching dusk, I could see misty vapors like cloudy snakes sliding between the approaching trees on the forest path making odd mirages on the old forest road. The shadows made by the dying light soon lost their defining edges as they merged and thickened at last into a bath of darkness. To scorn shelter in the Land of the Mists after sunset was seen as a deadly folly that only the bravest or most foolhardy dared to attempt. But of course for me the promise of a bright hearth and a warm bed had already slipped away into an even more personal darkness.

I turned and looked at Radovan's body strapped behind be. "We may both be ghoul meat this night, but I'll catch your people before the flesh eaters find me Vistani!" I spat in an anger that I had rarely before felt and with a great deal more conviction that in truth I felt.

I searched the diminishing horizon that lay before me for any sign of the brightly painted vardos the gypsies made their home, yet while I had ridden Tasha hard and fast in pursuit the caravan had somehow outdistanced me anyway. I knew there was no other route they could have taken from Rivalis, but still after leaving the village there was no sign of them that I could find.

But still I rode on in my dogged pursuit, as fearless of the night closing around me due to my single-mindedness as a lamb was upon a chopping block. With the kidnapping of Erasmus, all the torments that might descend upon me from the night held no greater fear for me than that I might fail my child and my wife.

As Tasha rode along the eclipsing lane I scanned the overgrown borders until eventually I spotted a slender oak branch that hung by a feeble tether of bark to the tree from which it had once been part of. I reached out my hand and the bough snapped off cleanly as I guided faithful Tasha past it. I dropped the reins over her saddle, knowing her faithfulness to find the proper path in the darkness was better than my own ability to guide her. Meanwhile I trimmed and peeled this piece of wood until I was left with a crooked pole almost my own height in length.

I reached behind me and tore the remains of Radovan's shirt from his body and wrapped it around one end of the staff before I tied it off. I now had a long torch to use to study the road before us, that was of course if I had the courage to actually light it. That courage, however did not come too quickly for the light may be more trouble than it was worth.

Overhead the leafy canopy ceiling by now had cast a next of pure opaque darkness and shadow over us both, making the road we were upon nothing more than a gray colorless strip that that wound and was eventually lost to the dark that lay ahead of us. The forest itself was deadly and menacing in its silence leaving only the lonely plodding of Tasha's staccato steps to echo painfully in my ears. I wished perhaps there was some way she might walk above the ground or I might muffle the sounds of her steps so that we could pass through this stretch without alerting the menace that I could feel lay heavily within these woods. But with every step her hoof echoes on stone, her tack jingled, and even the saddle that I sat upon creaked in some level of betrayal. While I knew all reasonable creatures of the daylight hours were deep in their lairs, and those that creep the night were likely just rising, I was certain all around e such beasts were pricking up their ears to the soft clip-clop of an approaching call to dinner.

I wondered if I dared to light the torch I had made. It was not that I feared Tasha's ability to stay to the road, but rather that I feared if the Vistani wagons had turned from the path to make camp, as most reasonable people would do, that I would miss these signs in the darkness. Tasha and I were alone and I truly wanted us to remain so at least until we caught up to my quarry. There is a famous saying in my homeland. "_A man who braves the Darkon night will see wondrous things before he dies."_ Until now I had always thought this both practical advice as well as an l preacher's proverb that was usually spoken of with a chuckle, but only behind doors that had been safely bolted and secured against the night.

Now here in the darkness the merest suggestion of a queer noise that reached my ear sent a cold shiver running down m spine. A saw a dim wisp of light flashing in a patch of nearby underbrush, or so I thought. I focused upon this point as Tasha and I passed by saw nothing beyond the murky flank of the road until a shadow flitted by my stirrup. I tried to follow this hint of motion but all I saw was more of the gyrating wisps of mist filtering through the depthless surroundings of the woods.

"Perhaps it was only the echo of light a man sees when he closes his eyes." I murmured to myself hopefully.

Tasha expelled a tense, low whinny and turned her sleek head in the same direction that I myself was looking. It was obvious to me that my horse had seen something too.

A second phantom of spark flickered in another dark patch of underbrush beside me then faded once more like the first had. My mind thought fireflies perhaps, but it was too late in the season for such. I jabbed the unlit torch into the bush where I though I had seen the light, making the forest around me ignite with more such scattered pinpoints of illumination before these too dimmed or turned away as my gaze tried to fix upon them. By my peripheral vision I could see their numbers begin to multiply and making eerie silhouettes of shadow in the dark underbrush.

Another of these strange shadows came from the bushes and rolled by underfoot of Tasha, spooking her into a jostle that nearly unseated me as she shied away from it. I could see the muscles in her neck were trembling now as well.

"Easy girl, easy." I tried to calm her by stroking her gray dappled neck. "It is only mist and faerie fire."

Tasha however only threw her head back and snorted anxiously in response to me, stomping one hoof and then another as a warning perhaps to the creatures that ran by her feet.

"I suppose I must light this torch." I said aloud both to calm her with my voice and perhaps provide me some comfort as well. I put the reins down upon the saddle once more and reached into the chest pocket of my wooly coat for the small, spring loaded spark block that I always kept close at hand. Such a device was invaluable for starting fires. I squeezed the roughened strip of steel against the small flint bar, compressing the spring and then releasing it. The file scraped across the surface of the block as the spring uncoiled, releasing in its wake a flurry of brilliant sparks.

"I hope we are alone girl." I said to Tasha trying again to land a spark upon the cloth of the torch. "This torch will…" The breath caught in my throat making me hold my tongue for I was certain I had heard something whispering in the mists nearly below me.

Tasha's ears snapped forward on alert, angular and trembling in obvious concern, and her muscles went taught between my legs. In seeming response a blood chilling unnatural moan seemed to come from the underbrush around us, making Tasha's muzzle flutter and inducing I might add a tingle under my own skin as well. I quickly returned the spark block to my pocket and took up the reins. I was just in time in completing this action for I saw Tasha's ears go flat against her head.

Tasha gave a sharp heave an her equine scream splintered in the silence that surrounded us. It also filled me with an icy dread for I knew her senses in this environment were much shaper than my own. She reared up and then leapt forward almost as if she intended to flip over on her back, an action based on my current seating arrangement that I was not pleased to see. I tossed the torch away from me so that I might lean forward and seize her mane with both my hands to hold on, as I leaned forward into the saddle to hopefully push her back to her feet as I held on with all the strength my arms and legs could muster in this position.

The fear filled animal bucked and spun in a blind, and as far as I was concerned reckless, hysteria filing the air with her shrieks that echoed higher and higher with every cry.

Radovan's body that I had strapped down intended a merely calm ride, now flailed around me wildly. With every one of these jerking movements it seemed to me that one or more of his limbs would strike a solid blow to one part or another of my body and cause Tasha mane to slip further through my clutching fingers.

For a brief moment I experienced a feeling of weightlessness that I knew meant Tasha had jumped from the ground herself, which gave me the only warning I was to receive before we crashed into a barrier of pine trees and especially one rather sturdy limb at just the appropriate height to knock the wind from me. Tasha sensed their prickly touch and in her enraged state at their clawing touch lunged away from me with another scream, leaving my body entangled in these branches as she pulled free and wheeled out of sight plunging for yet another thicket until gravity took firm hold of me once more and deposited me on my back.

For what seemed a long moment as I tried to recover my breath I lay there in the obviously wet and thorny bed of dead pine needles. It was only the thought of Tasha spinning around and coming back this way, trampling me under her stampeding feet that gave me the energy to roll back out of the bushes and into the road once more where I saw all around me it seemed to blaze with the glow of faerie fire I had only caught glimpses of before.

I listened for Tasha's hoof, trying to determine if they were coming closer and then realized how much worse it might be if instead she fled in the opposite direction. Perhaps she would bolt all the way back to Rivalis leaving me stranded here in these woods. Fearing this more than her hoofs I began to crawl in her general direction since I was still too weak and gasping to make it back up to my feet.

The mists that curled around my form now parted and I could not help but draw up upon my knees and throwing y hands before my mouth at the scene of horror that played out before me.

Even as Tasha leapt, and bucked, and kicked, ferociously pitching herself in the air in jump after jump, a swarm of short, pudgy humanoids jumped with her and clung onto he sides and neck. Even as the horse squirmed and fought by kicking at the little beast, the little fiends only launched and vaulted themselves at her in greater and greater numbers. Beneath the pitiful cries she was making with her life and death battle, a babble of clicking and hissing sounds passed between her diabolic attackers as the hopped along the ground at her feet, fearless of her stomping hooves, and flung themselves at her again and again. They hung from her legs and shoulders and haunches mostly by their teeth, their short fingerless hands twitching for purchase as Tasha sought to shake them off. Eventually the miserable beast began to sway and founder in combination of their numbers and weight along with the loss of blood to their attacks. Finally her forelegs folded beneath her and while she attempted one last feeble buck, the horde of creatures swept over her.

I clutched my heart at the scene and cried "Tasha" aloud for she had ever been a loyal and friendly companion and certainly did not deserve to die in such a way. Unfortunately in response to the grief I felt, half a dozen of the creatures now turned and fixed their gazes upon me as I sat kneeling in the middle of the mist swirled road.

I noted that their large bulbous eyes that turned at the sound I made quickly squinted and creased heir slitted pupils seeing me as another enemy to destroy as they gazed at me. The had no noses between those giant bulging orbs and their mouths were nothing more than holes from which their black tubular tongues jumped forward, lizard-like in their speed, like deadly poniard daggers to stick into their opponent. These horrid faces were literally and horribly sewn with wide painful stitching into hooded single cloth body suits made of thick dark cloth.

They were constructs, the results of some mad intelligence effort to create life I realized even though my body was nearly paralyzed in terror my mind recorded all of this. They were grotesque parodies of life infused with the baleful life-force of some malevolent power. Being a doctor I could not help but be both shocked and repelled by the looks of these creatures while they in turn looked stonily upon me. And then to my increasing distress the sinister fabrications of an evil mind began to hop toward me.

"Think Van Richten, think!" I ordered myself as I fell backwards away from these creatures and crab walked trying to distance between me and these closing beasts. But the little creatures fanned out in the road as they began to close and surround me. The chattered and clicked and popped in a language of their spitting tongues, trying to cut off my escape. The center one was the beast nearest to be as I continued to crawl away and I could see that it was judging the distance between us as it prepared to leap toward me undoubted with the vile needle like tongue leading the way.

Then by chance my hand came down upon a bundle that I recognized instantly as the torch I had dropped when Tasha had spooked and bolted. My fingers closed around the object and I began to have at least the glimmer of home that I might be able to keep them at bay. Their giant eyes, like those of an owl were obviously designed for near total darkness. If I could but start a fire, the glow would likely blind them enough to allow me to escape.

Tapping a store of energy that I was unaware that I even had I rolled to my knees and then scrambled up to my feet seizing the pole in my grasp and I rose and letting it slide through my fingers until the cloth covered head butted up against the top of my fist. I spun at this hoping to keep an eye on my attackers as by feel I found the spark block once more.

Unfortunately the creations were of their own mind on this subject and the first now leapt at me and landed face first, as they had obviously been designed to, on the back of my lower left leg. I felt it thrust its mouth against my calf and to my horror its tongue pierced through my heavy leather pants with almost no effort until its spiny wiggling brought it finally into contact with the meat on the back of my leg. He found a particularly soft spot and thrust forward, sending me into a stumble and dance of pain.

I began to kick my leg out harder and harder trying to dislodge my attacker and at the same time not come any closer to the others and finally after the fourth attempt or so there was a definite popping sound and the creature flew away and into the bushes beside the road. I could however hear him scrambling to right himself and return at once to the fray.

I was lucky on the next attacker for I saw it prepare its leap and as it executed it I brought the five foot torch around and batted it away before that deadly tongue could find me again. They learned from this and with clicks and whistles two leapt for me his time and while I was sufficiently skilled with a makeshift staff to swat one away again in mid leap that sent it on an even farther end over end flight off in another direction, there was no way I could intercept the second with this weapon. So instead with my free hand I grabbed the makeshift hood it wore while still in flight and launched it too out into the woods in a single fluid motion.

Three of the beasts were regrouping by this point but I doubted that I could get them all if they once again worked in concert. So instead of trying to back out of range I surprised them by leaping deeper into the fray and using the torch to sweep across the shoulders and into the moonlike faces of two while giving the third a rather solid kick that sent it tumbling away again. Of course I was uncertain if I was even causing them any damage, but that had not been the purpose of this exercise. As I had cleared a path and spun around again to see those still facing off against me, this time I now held the spark block firmly in my hand and the head of the torch in the other. I squinted my eyes so not to b blinded by my own efforts.

Before however I could compact the spring I was struck heartily from behind and sent sprawling onto my face as I fired off the spark block. Of course none of these embers found their way to the head of the torch and as I landed the shock of the blow knocked my flint and steel fire starter from my fingers. My mistake is that I had not kept track of the rest of the pack of beasts that had feasted upon poor Tasha. While I was a fair fight for the half dozen that I face, the rest of the pack, at least three times that number, now assaulted me en mass.

Tiny bodies scampered up my legs and back like being immersed beneath a sea of rats. This feeling was followed almost instantly by numerous other stabs of agony throughout my legs and back much like blistering stabs of a hot poker upon my flesh I would assume. I make no excuses for the scream of pain his caused to be torn from my lips.

I crawled forward though trying to ignore all this as my hands searched in vain for the spark block I had dropped. I could feel still more of these monsters crawling upon my back as more and more of the creatures sought to find purchase and sustenance. Desperately I swept my arms out in front of me for the weight of the creatures, though individually not all that bad, as a group had pinned me down. The gods be praised that my hand finally fell upon the familiar feeling contraption.

I pulled my two hands toward each other, bringing the cloth head of the torch near to the spark block as I prepared to fire off the spring as I tried to ignore the pain in my body and the numb feelings from my lower extremities. Then one of their lancing probes stuck through and into my spine making every muscle in my body spasm and tense all at once. For the spark block in my palm this caused my thumb to clench and release sending a shower of sparks into the night around me.

While none landed upon the torch in this effort, the burst of unexpected light caused the beasts upon me back to hesitate ever so much. I dared not surrender this momentary opportunity so I scraped the block again sending a showers of sparks that mostly landed upon my own skin and caused blisters at their arrival. I dared not stop however and fired the block again and again to at least keep the creatures at bay and praying that one such ember of flame would find the head of the torch in my other hand.

The gods are said to protect fools and in this case I believe this to be true for finally a spark did land among the cloth and with a simple blow it burst into flaming life causing the creatures on my back and legs to flee leaving me blooded but still alive and with a weapon they truly feared in my hand.

I was still weak by this ordeal and was hardly able to stand on my own, but I knew to stay on the ground was to await the extinguishing of my torch and then the creatures' return. I placed the tip of the torch staff into the road and using it to steady me found first my knees and then my feet though I likely look drunk to any who might have seen me.

Once I felt strong enough, I lifted the torch before me in swinging arcs toward those places in the bushes nearby where I still heard scurrying. Each such pass at this type of location was met with chirps of fear and then panic as the remaining creatures now fled at last. The noise they made falling away at last, only to be replaced by a grating shuffle coming down the road directly toward me.

I turned weakly around and squinted though my pale torch light at what approached finally recognizing this at last and crumpling back to my knees as the pair of zombies closed on me.

"He who braves the Darkon night indeed sees wondrous things before he dies." I moaned aloud ironically as I stared at my approaching death. They had been dead for some time as their waxy skin sagged away from the skull bone beneath their eyes, laying in folds along their neck and waist, and crackling in those dried out places that existed between the folds. Their splintered teeth were clogged with mixtures of both dirt and rotten flesh that may not have been their own. The hair was matted black and bristly with dirt and in some places and been shorn away from their scalp and hung in patches. Their clothes had rotted off almost completely offering no modesty over the remaining patches of meatless bone under torn leather like skin.

Since they approached me directly even as I tried to roll to the side of the road incase their mission was one of travel, I new they had been set for me or at least for any upon this road by whatever power had so raised them. I knew I could not flee and the though of my poor Ingrid losing both her husband and her child was too much for me to accept so I willingly offered my soul to the very devil who pursued me.

"Whatever you are," I pleaded, "I beg of you. Raise me into living death if you must but leave me the will to avenge myself upon the Vistani!"

The dead men halted in place, hovering silently before me but making nor further threatening gestures. They radiated a frigid cold of the grave that the other I had faced had not and I saw their dead eyes turn and glow with a red luminescence. The lips cracked and spoke in unison.

"I am the voice of Lord Azalin." They croaked.

I was shocked. The Wizard King out here? Could I be so fortunate or was I instead only in that much deeper trouble than I thought. "Lord Azalin is that truly you?" I asked.

"Identify yourself." The pair ordered with the authority of the king behind their words.

"I am Rudolph Van Richten." I said simply.

A third corpse, this one a woman whose throat had been torn out now also shambled up behind the first pair and come to a stop with the same red glow in her eyes. She too spoke in sync with the others. "I remember you." They said simply. "You are the physician of Rivalis."

I could not help but be excited by his memory of me. "YES, Lord Azalin. Thank the gods you are here!"

"Do not rejoice, Van Richten for there is no mercy for those who defy my curfew." He spoke through dead lips. I noted now a fourth mostly whole zombie come forth and join the chorus, this one's only injury seemed its shredded fingers from digging itself free of its grave. "Only one thing has stayed your death to this point. What are the Vistani to you?"

I paused and tried to form the words but the horror of all that had taken place to me this night was still too fresh on my brain and kept me from thinking straight.

"Speak!" The dead commanded me with obvious waning patience. "What are the Vistani to you?"

My eyes fell to the ground for I knew his hatred for them and any who offered them aid or comfort. But my king is one not to be denied so I explained to him all that had occurred even up to the point of pointing to the dead body of Radovan Radanavich who now lay in a heap beside the remains of my ever faithful Tasha.

"I have chased them now since they departed but they are faster than I would have expected." I admitted for in truth I had though to catch up to them within the first hour before night had fully come. During my story I noted that more and more zombies came with their graceless shuffle to stand here in this clearing and listen to my story. By now they numbered nearly a score and even more could I hear approach.

"The Vistani do not travel the roads." The raspy chorus explained. "They travel the Mists. Most likely this tribe you seek is even now in Barovia for they are Strahd von Zarovich's toadines and messenger boys, and in exchange he grants them asylum."

"Barovia? That must be four or five days of hard riding from here." I said in shock.

"For them it is not but an hour's walk."

"Then my son is forever lost!" I slumped even more letting the torch nearly fall from my nerveless fingers.

"Most certainly." My liege said without a hint of sympathy. "But how would you avenge yourself upon them if you could?"

"I…" I paused for I was unprepared for such a question. "I do not know, but I would most assuredly figure something out." I said not really knowing what I was saying only feeling the grief within me.

"Would you _murder_ them?"

"I am a doctor my lord, I do not know how to kill anything!" I cried trying to hold onto the tattered morals of my world. "I hoped merely to find them and steal my son back. While I have seen more than thirty years I can move quite stealthily when I need to."

"You could not even follow the Vistani at a distance, much less approach them unnoticed." The undead spoke as one. By now their numbers had swelled to nearly thirty by my guess.

Rage passed through me. "How can I know what it is that I am to do when I have never done something like this before? Without knowledge one can only learn through experience!"

"And thus are foolish mages killed." The dead laughed at me.

"I am no fool!" I replied. "I am only a desperate father! Besides my lord I learn quickly and as a doctor I have come to understand that knowledge is true power."

The forest around me seemed to erupt with throaty laughter of the dead and their desiccated vocal chords. I had shouted in rage before my king and now likely was going to die. I hoped poor Ingrid would not soon die of heartbreak as well.

"Indeed Van Richten, knowledge is the purest power but one can wield it only once one has acquired it."

"I agree my lord which is why I am here." I said this with my remaining bluster and bravado. The words seemed to not even be my own, but perhaps some lost holdover part of my youthful adventurous self.

"Well said." The voices grew silent until only the first pair spoke. "I am of a mind to help you to your revenge for I cannot stand the devil Strahd's gypsy poachers in my lands." He said with deadly intent. "Besides it will be interesting for me to learn if this dead Vistani of yours retains the ability to guide you through the Mists."

"You can restore his life?" I said in both awe and undisguised glee. Were her son alive Madame Radanavich would surely feel indebted. "That would be perfect! Surely the Vistani will return my Erasmus if Radovan is returned unto them."

"I did not say that I would restore his life."

The chorus of zombies began again to whisper, first in unison and then in dizzying counter-rhythms of magic that seemed to me to blend into an acidic hiss of power. Ebony coils escaped their lips and rose form the ground, coiling together into a single shiny scaly chord, like that of a large black snake that wormed its way into Radovan's mouth and sought out his unbeating heart. When the final ebony tail curled and sank between his dead lips, the Vistani's eyes fluttered open.

The animated body wobbled to his feet, but stood at an odd angle for his spine had snapped when Tasha had fallen in the end. The boy's slack jaw and listing face was flushed with a chalky blue color from the draining of his blood into his lungs. His chestnut colored eyes were rolled back in his head exposing the whites beneath. And his swollen blood covered tongue punched between his teeth and waved about in the air as if seeking more of the inky blackness that had animated hi to unlife.

"Fetch the bridle from your horse." The pair of corpses next to me ordered.

Feeling to numb to raise a question or an objection before this power I had seen, I stumbled over to Tasha and knelt beside her head. Her eye was still wide in seeming terror and I stroked her jaw and closed this eye for its final time. "I am sorry for this girl." I said filled with a pang of guilt for the ending given to a horse that had ever been my loyal mount. Gently as if not to wake her, I unstrapped the bridle and slipped it from her mouth.

I returned to the zombies who stood with the patience of death carrying the item I had been ordered to fetch.

"Put the bit into the mouth of the Vistani."

I looked from the corpses to Radovan who now had come up into the circle beside me. "You want me to put the bridle on him?" I asked to ensure I had heard correctly.

"Correct."

"Will he not attack me?"

"By my will I have decreed that no unliving thing may touch you this night Van Richten." He explained.

I squinted at the corpses around me and the darkness even beyond them for any hint of treachery. "And what of the ghoulish creations in the bushes around us?" I asked.

"Your perceptions are indeed sharp Doctor. The blood hunters are indeed not undead. But all things in Darkon, living or otherwise, are at my command and none shall accost you. Now obey me!"

The shock of this seemed to stagger my very perceptions of life. "You have even that much power my lord? How may mortals possess such total omnipotence?"

"OBEY ME!"

This order shocked me into movement and before I understood fully my action I pushed the bit into Radovan's mouth and slipped the muzzle strap over the back of his head. I looked closely into the dark irises that still stared upward but there was n sign of emotion or intellect within them. There was nothing except perhaps some instinctive craving for a life now gone. I moved behind him and cinched the strap across the top of Radovan's head then let the guide lines dangle down to lay beside his feet.

"Pick up the reins Van Richten." The corpses ordered and then shuffled closer into line with me. "He will heed your commands as will these assembled others. Learn if he can guide you through the Mists. Report to me Van Richten, if you return."

With that the red glow in the eyes of the other zombies all faded telling me that I was no longer in my king's presence. But even so I was not capable of disobeying the task set before me for it was still possible that I might rescue my Erasmus.

I jerked on the reins. "Radovan." I spoke in a normal voice hoping to get the zombie's attention. "Radovan take me to your mother." I said a little louder and complete this time.

Like an unbroken colt the zombie turned and looked at me before turning away but not taking a single step.

"Radovan, damn you, take me to your mother!" With that the bridled body of the gypsy lumbered forward as his steps became more patterned. As one the rest of the dead followed in his wake with me pulling on his reins. The mists that had been curling at our feet began to grow and climb, becoming thicker with every moment. Gray tentacles like some giant beast embraced us all and drew our group into a netherworld of blinding fog, and leaving behind us the faerie fire and blood hunters.

How long I walked within that fog I cannot say for certainty, only that it seemed like hours though likely much much less. My time stretched into a shuffling nightmare in which the paces of my own leaden feet were matched by the shuffles of two score or more undead that surrounded me. I followed behind my dead beast of burden, part of a funeral march, and forced to relive the last hours of Radovan's life.

"I did not kill you Vistani." I asserted for I knew this to be true. "The blood upon my hands shall wash clean. Find your people! Find them NOW!" I ordered.

In seeming response a breeze swelled and broke the mists around us, scattering them to reveal an unfamiliar mountainous region. I scanned these peaks with my eyes for they were unfamiliar to any I had ever seen in Darkon or Lamordia so I knew that I was likely in Barovia. The heavens behind these peaks was vaguely blue, portending that morning was on the advance, but likely still an hour or more away.

Slowly the true size of the undead horde at my command became apparent. Their numbers stretch almost to a hundred, and they stood at a distance from me, undoubtedly part of Azalin's invisible barrier of protection he had placed upon me, forming a crescent behind me. All of them looked to me for a command with the exception of Radovan who looked away to the south along a grassy road that led over a knoll. His tongue seemed to waggle as if trying to speak but the bit prevented this.

"You have found them haven't you?" I asked excited. As if my legion understood my words they all began to lumber forward toward whatever lay over that ridge.

What to do? I thought to myself of all the potential possibilities. The zombies would attack most anything in their path. What if beyond the knoll was a simple farm house? Even if the kidnapping Vistani were there did I truly want to see them attacked? If Erasmus was still in their possession would his army attack my son as well?

I dropped the reins and jostled my way through the undead horde who let me pass as they had been instructed to. While my pace was not nearly as fast as usual due to my injuries, I still outpaced the zombies and made it over the knoll and was able to look down. There I spied the twinkle of campfires as well as the ever familiar rounded roofs of three large wagons. It was the Vistani caravan.

The undead swarmed over and around the knoll that I stood upon with their claws grasping and their mouths grumbling in agitation. But as they neared the camp an alarm was raised from those on guard. As the zombies shuffled forward individual gypsies rushed about the camp, casting glittering dust into the air and making frantic magical gestures.

Two of the dark haired men, Radovan's cousins unless my eyes were failing me, swung thick staves at the first pair of zombies to reach the camp, tripping them up and then beating them into the ground and immobility. A third cadaver cast itself onto the third Vistani, the pair of boys' uncle and the two of them went down. The man began to scream as the corpse bit into his shoulder drawing blood until a young teenage snatched up the staff the defender had dropped and smashed an end into the corpse's ragged skull knocking its head off of its shoulder.

Meanwhile the rest of the zombie army had circled around the camp, but by this point the Vistani defenses had come into play. The undead's progress was finally halted as the gypsies completed their warding circle and those within were destroyed.

Sharp commands rose above the grunts and sighs of the thwarted zombies as slowly over time their numbers became more and thicker at the perimeter. I sought the source of these commands, knowing in my mind their originator, but waiting of course until I sighted the hunchbacked old crone Madame Radanavich as she rushed about the camp, snapping out orders to her tribe and likely reinforcing the perimeter with more of her own personal magic and hexes.

I can only state that upon seeing her I was filled with an anger I had never before known that I was capable of. So blinded was I by this that I strode boldly down among the corpses that made up my army. They parted for me as I made my way forward and crossed the warding line which id nothing to hold me, one of the living, back. Two of the Vistani moved to intercept me but they were the cousins who had been my transfusion sources and their eyes grew wide upon recognizing me and they too fell back allowing me to pass uncontested toward the heart of the camp.

"Madame Radanavich!" I screamed as I saw her. "Thief!"

"Doctor Van Richten?" She gasped nearly in the same level of surprise as the others of her tribe. "How came you here to Barovia? Have you set these flesh eaters upon us?"

"Where is my son witch?" I asked in rage. "Give me my son!"

The matron of this clan looked at me and then to the wall of zombies before looking once more to m with her own hardened eyes. "No! The boy is forfeit by your own agreement and by your own incompetence!"

"Return him to me witch or I shall unleash the dead upon you and your clan." I threatened.

The two cousins now approached at her signal and grasped me by the arms. I saw regret in their eyes but neither was willing to disobey their matron. So be it if they wish to follow one of evil then they too may suffer for it.

"Your brainless minions cannot touch us Van Richten." She chuckled and snarled at me. "We Vistani know their ways better than you do."

"I want my son witch!" I struggled in the grasp of the two young men but I was held fast.

Madame Radanavich hobbled up to me with an evil smile upon his face and gazed into my eyes. "We sold your giorgio child for a fair profit. He now belongs to Baron Metus who lives a few miles from here." She pointed to the east. "If you want your child back doctor then you must deal with him."

"Sold Erasmus?" I asked in near shock. "Why I will…I will…" I struggled against the arms that restrained me but the more I struggled the more the old woman laughed at me.

"What will you do little doctor?" She scoffed at me. "Your undead companions cannot reach us and it is a wonder to me that you were even able to find us."

She paused and frowned at the reasoning of her own words. "How did you find us doctor? Only the Vistani can travel the Mists."

I now ceased my struggles and turned to look my captor in the eyes and smiled myself for the first time. "Radovan showed me." I said as I grinned at her in undisguised superiority.

"Radovan?" She asked in wide eyed shock. "My Radovan?" She began to look to the undead that were closed around the circle. "Doctor Van Richten where is my son?"

"Call to him?" I said to her coolly and teasingly. "Call to your son Madame Radanavich."

"No!" She screamed knowing what was to come.

"Then I will." I said with satisfaction. "Radovan! Radovan, come to me!" I ordered.

The dead Vistani youth made his way to the very forefront of the circle at my command but was halted by the wards as all the others had been. Te pair of cousins who held me cried out in their own horror, releasing me and backing away in horror from the sight of one of their own lifeless fellows who weaved on his broken spine like some tortured and damaged doll while carrying the horse bridle in his mouth.

Madame Radanavich fell to her own knees before me wringing her hands. "Black gods, black gods, my poor son!"

I ignored her as I was seized once again by the fury within me and went at once to the perimeter circle and grasped the reins that dangled from Radovan's mouth.

"Here is your son witch." I said flipping the reins over his head. "Don't you want him back? I have brought him home for you." I began to pull upon the leather straps and began to pull him over the barrier. His feet remained planted outside the warding circle but his body folded unnaturally at his severed spine and began to cross the warding circle.

For a moment I would swear he looked at me with pleading eyes, not so much for himself, but it seemed like it was a plea for me. But I ignored this and pulled all the more. Finally with a stumble I pulled him across the line.

"He is inside the circle!" A young Vistani girl screamed from somewhere close by to me. Radovan now straightened up once more, or as much as he could with his broken spine, and then began to stagger toward his mother once more.

"Stop!" She cried making a warding sign against her son, but he ignored it and continued toward her.

I reached and grabbed Radovan's reins once more and held him back as he reached for his mother. Power seemed to surge through me. "Tell me where to find my son!" I demanded and all the zombies said it so in unison as well. "Where is Erasmus?" We all asked in unison.

Madame Radanavich's expression changed from fear and horror unto rage as she looked at me. "I curse you Rudolph Van Richten, with all the power I have to lay you low! Live you always among monsters, and see everyone you love fall beneath their claws. Let this start with your son!" She said with a look of perverse glee.

"Erasmus is the slave of Baron Metus, and he will be forever." She laughed in hysterical glee, her mind obviously snapped. "The baron is a vampire."

"No!" I cried in horror. "No! A vampire. NO!" Hatred now burst through my heart and coursed through my veins in a fire hotter than any other. "You curse me Madame Radanavich? You curse me? I say feel the power of that oath redoubled upon you! I curse YOU! I will have my son back, as you have yours!" I released the reins. "Go back to your mother Radovan!"

I turned to the gypsies who stood staring at me in horror. None had dared to help me though I had tried my best for them. They were guilty and I turned upon them and screamed. "I curse you all! Living dead take you as you have taken my son!" I turned once more to my army of zombies. "Take them! Take them all!"

The army of undead at my command fought harder to pierce the barrier that held them back, those behind pushing on those in front until at last one was pushed through the very gap that Radovan had been pulled through. Like a soap bubble bursting, this second passing of one of the undead through the wards caused them all to collapse and suddenly the undead were crossing these lines from all directions.

Screams of alarm went up from all directions as members of the tribe tried to fend off the shambling dead. The Vistani put up a ferocious fight and for every one of their number taken down a zombie perished first, but the zombies outnumbered the gypsies by over three to one.

The Vistani's terrified cries finally shocked through my wall of rage and hatred and I came to my senses to see the havoc I had ordered. I watched in horrid fascination as the undead feasted upon the bodies of the dead, and not quite dead gypsies. There were no more to resist within the camp but the sounds of combat had been a comfort in comparison to the sounds of feeding I listened to now.

"Stop!" I shouted at Radovan as he was the closest of the undead but his feeding frenzy like all the other was beyond my ability to control. "Stop!" I cried, literally with tears in my eyes, for his actions to cease. But instead the thing that had been Radovan ripped the bit from his mouth and returned to feasting upon his own mother before her bulging and dead eyes.

I am not too proud to admit that I fled from this scene, not of course knowing where I was only knowing that I had to get away. I ran until I could no longer and then I collapsed falling face first into the soft loam of the forest I was in. I did not even try to lift my head as the tears came and with every breath I sucked more dirt into my mouth.

"I am a murderer!" I said aloud not even daring to look upon my hands, knowing the blood that I would see upon them even though I had not touched another soul in that camp. "I am a murderer." I said again. "And I will never be the same."

But even there in the lowest ebb of my existence I could not rest for the life of my son still lay in the balance. By now the sun had risen and I had my bearings. Madame Radanavich had said this vampire Baron Metus lived a short distance to the east.

I would find this villain and free my son if that were at all possible. I had told Lord Azalin that a man can only know what he is capable by what he had done so far. I now knew it was within me the ability to kill. I was a dark festering wound upon my soul. And I would use this skill when it was called upon to protect those I love.

But I was still a healer as well. I had saved as many lives as I had taken this night. Would such actions not be worth something to those who ultimately judged us? If you kill a killer who would kill many others were you not better for doing so?

I had not sought out the Radanavch Vistani, they had come to me. And I had truly tried all within my power and skill to save the life of Radovan. Perhaps some fickle god decided it was not to be so. None of my actions deserved the punishment that had been placed upon my door and especially not that of my family.

I regret that a tribe had to die for the wickedness of their leader but armies die for their commanders and kings as well. Surely I have seen innocents struck down by diseases they did not deserve as well. It is regrettably a part of this world that I shall never become accustomed to and do what I can to avoid. But here and now I shall not let my regret for what had to happen to prevent me from doing what I still must. I will not fall victim to self loathing or pity while my son and wife still need me.

I looked now to the brightening east. Somewhere out there, not too far by the gypsy's directions, my son is a prisoner of a vampire. It is said that those creatures sleep by the day, though in truth I know not if this is merely some myth or a true fact. In truth a day ago I would have told you the creatures themselves were merely myths but the honesty and glee in the old woman's eyes as she admitted this left me without a doubt such creatures do in fact exist.

If Erasmus has survived this night as I have then perhaps I can find him and we can together sneak away before this Baron awakens and comes to make of him a meal. I will find this Baron. And now that I have learned what I am capable of, nothing shall deter me in my chosen course of action.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Fool**

**_October of Year 706 _**

**_Barovia _**

**_Chapter 17_**

It was midmorning when I stumbled into the village of Krezk in western Barovia. The village was not even half the size of my own Rivalis and from what I cold tell populated completely by humans. The buildings were made of plastered over timbers, many white washed, with simple thatched roofs. I could only assume by this that the land was not subject to the same fierce storms, which we called wizard weather, that we of Darkon faced for a thatched roof would never survive a summer season storm without being torn away by the winds.

I realized soon some major flaws of my plan to locate the baron and rescue my son. The first was that of language. While my natural language was Darkonese and I spoke a passing Lamordian, the language used here in Barovia was Balok, named in part for the giant mountains that existed in this land. It was far more guttural a language than I was used to and it meant I would be hard pressed to get any help from the locals without a lot of difficulty.

The second issue for me was the way that I was dressed. While my clothes were a bit odd in style from the local wear, they were still common rather than the elaborates that a noble might don. I had hoped that this would make me less of an outsider to the locals, but I had not taken into account the score or more of holes that littered the back after the blood feeders had nearly done me in last night. Such an outfit seemed to scream not only was I an outsider, which my odd language quickly confirmed, but that I had faced or was a member of some other evil.

Thankfully for me it was bright daylight for the village of Kresk existed on a trade route, the Old Svalich Road that ran east to west across this domain and through others as well. Since Kresk was a border town, they at least were used to strangers in daylight hours coming into or through their village. Had it been nighttime however no door would have been opened for me for Barovia, much like my home, is deadly after dark.

I went to the village heart and began to try and speak with the local merchants assuming they if anyone might be able to communicate with me. Occasional traders from Darkon were said to travel even here to Barovia if the price of goods were sufficient to make the trip profitable, so I needed only to find those who might do such business.

Thankfully I had took a good supply of coin with me which I had intended to offer the Vistani for my son, some of which I carried in my belt, but others were secreted in other locations on my person so not to draw too much attention from local rogues and such. While the faces were different, the coins here were roughly the same size as those in Darkon, perhaps a little smaller, so I was able to buy bread, cheese, and smoke sausage for breakfast once I realized how long it had been since I had eaten. Oddly I found all the meats, ad many other local foods as well were thick with garlic, but that was not an issue to stop me in any way.

I finally found a merchant who spoke basic Lamordian, he was a brewer by trade for it seems the dark Lamordian black ale was a popular rare treat this far south compared to the normal red ales, called blood ales locally, that were produced. After a few moments to converse, which I am thankful for the fact he did not take a single look at me and toss me out of his facility all together, I broached the subject that I was seeking Baron Metus.

He asked my why, though I could see by the tension in his eyes that he knew of who I spoke and that the Baron was hardly a popular sort with the locals it seemed. If it was true that he was a vampire I could understand their reasonable concerns in this are.

I did not chose to mention this detail the gypsies had provided about him because I did not know if it was indeed true. I was not even certain that he had in fact bought my son. I had only the words of Madame Radanavich to go on and she was not someone that I trusted implicitly. I thought it only fair to confront him directly and if he indeed had bought my son to offer him fair compensation for him in return. Only if he proved unreasonable and in truth a vampire would I take more drastic measures.

I explain in general terms my dealings with the Vistani, who were also not popular with the locals but who the Lord of Barovia had given leave to live upon his lands. I cannot say that I am surprised by their less than warm welcome based upon my own recent dealings as well. When I told them they had stolen my son and left him, I dared not say sold, with a local noble, the brewer made a sign against evil. I could not ask it this was for the Baron or for the evil act the gypsies had performed.

I told him then that my intentions were to seek out this noble and barter for my son's freedom once more. I also chose to say nothing of the Vistani clan that I had dealings with last night. As their camp was only three miles or so to the west I was certain they would learn about this soon enough themselves. I did not want to burden my rescue with the stigma of having killed so many local citizens even if I had not performed the act myself.

The brewer listened to my story and told me that I needed to come follow him to speak to the burgomaster of the village, who is the equivalent to a mayor in my own land. I did so and through the brewer's translations answered their questions of my story to their satisfaction.

What I learned in return is that Baron Metus was a local Boyar, a title of land owner like the nobles in my own land, who lived on large swaths of land and whom the locals paid their taxes to. That alone made him less than loved by the people, but other suspicions about him were troubling to the locals as well.

He had no wife and was only seen after dark in the village, which lent credence in my mind to the Vistani's claims about him. He also seemed to spend much time talking to the young men of the village exclusively, never to women beyond perhaps ordering a drink from a barmaid. While neither dared to say so openly I suspected his tastes ran in this direction which made me fear more for my son than I had to this point.

They also said that a fair number of teenage boys and young men were known to disappear from the village without a trace ever being found of them. While undoubtedly some may have run off to seek adventure or new careers, not all could be accounted for in such a manner. While there was no direct link to the Baron, beyond that he had indeed talked on occasion to some of them, the locals suspected that he was involved. This made my decision to find him all the more urgent and I asked once more for his location so that I might confront him directly and hopefully rescue my son.

I was told he lived a mile or so east along the road out of town and that his home would hardly be difficult to find for it was three story mansion surrounded by a large stone wall a lot two stories in height to keep unwanted visitors away. I begged my leave and received the pair's blessing for my noble cause and departed almost immediately except at the burgomaster's insistence I changed clothes that he gave me and which I handed him a pair of gold coins for in exchange. These were not only undamaged and warmer, but allowed me to blend a little bit better with the local population.

I made my way down the road, noting the sun had passed zenith by this point and that I had only half a day if it were true that his kind slept by day. I thought it best that I would sneak into his home and locate my son and hopefully be gone from the premises before the Baron awoke, but my plan was foiled as the structure came into sight.

Like most such solitary places, the home had been built with defense in mind and the fifteen foot walls I noted leaned slightly outward at the tops making any attempt to climb from the outside not so much an exercise of ascension as one of clinging against gravity. I knew that I would not be able to do this without say a grapple and a coil of rope to assist.

There was but a single gate and to my complete surprise I found it to be manned by living breathing guards rather than zombies or skeletons or whatever undead minions vampires were said to employ as their protection. This made me wonder if in fact my assumptions about the Baron were false. Had Madame Radanavich lied to me?

I strode up to the gate and immediately the pair on duty looked at me with cool detachment. It seems that locals, or perhaps anyone, did not regularly come to their master's house. Once again language was an issue I expected to face, but as I tried to make my plea to meet with the Baron, I found that one of the guards was actually from Darkon and had accepted a position with the Baron's guards. I noted how fine featured and young this guard appeared, and based on the stories the villagers had told me I had little doubt that his looks had been the source of the offer of employment.

I made my case, saying only that I had business with the Baron that could not wait and that the Vistani had sent me to him. The latter was of course true enough after a fashion. Normally they would have likely sent me on my way but my mention of the gypsies seemed to be a reason enough to allow me entrance into the mansion where I was taken to a waiting room and told to stay. The baron was a busy man and it might be hours before he could receive me but I was not to leave this room until he had sent for me. I had little doubt that the baron would not make an appearance until after nightfall.

I considered trying to sneak out, but to my shock the guards were not the only members of the Baron's living staff, in fact in the short walk I had seen nearly a dozen o so others, including a gardener, man servants, and other guards. To a one they were all young and good looking men whose choices of clothing tended to accent these features more than would be usual. Not a single female did I see present upon the grounds.

Light food and drink was brought to the sitting room by a servant and the same guard since he was the only one it seemed to speak my language. I tried to engage him in conversation on how he had come to be here, but he was evasive in his responses, merely saying that the Baron had seen him and offered him a job and he had taken it rather than staying at home. I detected that the rest of the story was not something he chose to share so I let the subject drop and awaited my meeting.

A grandfather clock in the room I sat it finally rang the seventh hour after midday and while this room had no windows, I knew that the sun was no longer visible, even if it had only lay hidden now behind more mountains. Within only a few minutes of this the door to the waiting room opened and the guard strode in accompanied by a noble I knew to be the result of this quest that I was on. There before me strode Baron Metus.

He was a tall and slender man of perfectly formed and angular features, easily more handsome than any of his servants though without a doubt they too were nearly the pinnacle of male beauty as well. His movements were filled with an unnatural grace and flow that I had only seen elves in my homeland capable of before this time. His skin was pale, though not corpse like, but his eyes were pools of deep black that seemed to suck within them all the light that surrounded them.

The guard moved off to the side and though I bowed and offered my hand in greeting to him, unsure which if either were the correct way to address a noble in this land, he remained cool and aloof, taking not my hand but simply staring at me. He barked some phrase to which I was unable to understand the meaning and I merely looked to the guard hoping he would translate. The guard ignored me and spoke only to his master in the same language.

Giving an exasperated sigh, the Baron removed a silver ring with an emerald upon it and had me slip it on my own finger. Once it was there he spoke aloud. "Balok."

"Now I will ask you again what business do you have with me old man?" I was shocked and realized that while the Baron was speaking in his own language I now understood it. He held his hand out expectantly waiting and I realized that he wised the ring returned to him. I was afraid that my ability to understand him would disappear if I took it off, but since it belonged to him I could only assume he knew such limitations.

I ignored the old man comment, for I still did not think one only thirty five years of age was worthy of such a title. But of course compared to the boys that Baron Metus had on his staff, all of which with perfect unwrinkled skin, I could see why he might make such a distinction.

"I heard from the Vistani that they left my son with you last evening." I said. "This was an error on their part and I have come to retrieve him and compensate you for the error they made along with the burden of taking up your time as well."

He considered my comments and then smiled, showing just the tips of his teeth. "Then I am afraid you have been misinformed." I thought at first that he was telling the truth. Had the Vistani lied to me? Was this Baron merely an enemy of theirs that they tried to pit me against? "There is no one in this house who does not wish to be here. This includes the young boy who they gypsies sold to me last evening." His smile turned now to one of pure cruelty and lustful desire.

I stepped forward before the guard could interpose himself and grabbed two handfuls of the Baron's attire. "Give me my son!" I demanded, fearing what horrors my Erasmus would face from this creature if left to his will.

He looked into my face and down to my hands with amusement as the guard leapt forward to pry us apart with his own body. "Oh how droll." The Baron said sliding his perfect blonde hair back into the correct position and looking on as the guard forced me further away. "Your Erasmus shall be mine forever more old man." He said straightening his clothes and turning away from me with cruel laughter bursting from his mouth. "I let you live only in thanks to the artist who made such a delectable piece for me to enjoy." He walked back to the door.

"Guard see him off of my property at once. If he returns…kill him."

He stalked off without a further word and the guard took me by the arm and led me away. I tired to plead with him and speak of a father's love for his son but my words seemed to strike a wall as impenetrable as the one that surrounded this manor. In short order I was flung, quite literally, to lay sprawled beyond the gate which was closed behind me with a solid clang of metal locking onto metal.

I know not the dangers that walked the nights in Barovia, though since the villagers locked their own doors as well or at least stuck completely within the bounds of their village I had to assume they were as deadly as my own in Darkon. I dared not walk back to the village, ad in truth my heart would not allow me to do so knowing now for certain that my own Erasmus lay somewhere within those walls. I decided instead to leave the sight of those guards at the gate and search the walls for some place I might be able to enter without detection. But the Baron's builders were masters of their art ad no such place could I find with the limited resources I had available to me. With a heavy heart I chose instead to camp out, away from the back wall, and to set a small fire that those who lived in the upper floors of the manor were sure to see. I wanted them to know that regardless of their threats I would not abandon my son.

The night was dreadfully long for one cannot begin to describe the pain and torment knowing that our child needs you and being unable to aid them. I had been gone a full day now as well and I could only picture the torment that Ingrid was facing as well, not knowing may even be worse than having the facts in this case. I only hoped my aunt and mother-in-law would stay with her and at least reduce the fear of waiting alone.

It was midnight when a strange movement of shadow caught my attention as it scaled the wall. Since they leaned slightly outward climbing from within would not be nearly as difficult as ascending from without. I considered all my options and put my hand on the dagger I wore, oddly enough it was the Vistani enchanted on I had acquired years before. Even though I now looked on these people with hatred, I did not deny this gift was the most potent weapon I had available to be.

Had I known I was potentially facing one of the undead, I might have acquired some holy water as well, but this had not crossed my mind when the gypsies had been my target. Now though I cursed myself for making such a mistake.

The shadow grew larger as it closed upon me. "Father?" The voice called out.

Praise the gods it was the voice of my dear Erasmus. I called his name and tears sprung from my eyes unwilled for I feared that I would never see him again. He seemed relieved as well though he did not approach into the circle of firelight, rather staying to the darkness beyond as he spoke to me in a whispering voice.

"I escaped from Baron Metus's soldiers father once I heard you were out here." He explained. "I had to see you for I knew you would be the only one I could trust."

I hoped that Erasmus's reason for staying in the shadows was merely so not to allow any who might be looking from the manor to notice a second form out by the fire. But while that was my hope, a deeper dread inside of me screamed that something was truly wrong. "Erasmus my son come into the light." I pleaded.

"First I must tell you…" He began as he tried to delay his father's request in a voice I had heard often as he grew up that meant he felt he had done something wrong.

"Please son." I pleaded for I could not wait any longer to look upon my boy. I needed to know it all at once for any additional delay was just a further turning of the screws in my personal torture.

I say with honesty that I believe I knew the truth of this even before he told me and as he stepped forward into the light of the campfire. His skin had an ivory pallor to it that was unnatural to the boy I had raised and his eyes were dark sunken pits that now reminded me more of the fiend and owner of the home just a few hundred yards away than of my son's bright and intelligent eyes. His words only confirmed now what I knew.

"He killed me father." Erasmus said in a low voice filled with guilt as if he had somehow been deserving of the fate that had taken away his life at such a young age.

The enormity of this evil crushed me under its weight and all its implications. My son was dead. My beloved Erasmus. The only child I would ever have and in truth the physical manifestation of all my dreams and hopes. The very light that shined in my Ingrid's eyes. Gone. Beyond our ability because on my failure as a doctor and the evil heart of a grieving mother who wished to share her pain.

Harmon spoke to me once of seeking immortality for the living and I cautioned him in this pursuit. Perhaps then I did not fully understand but now I knew all to well that our immortality and eternal youth are given to us through our children and their descendents, not through any spell or pill that we might wish to take.

Our children show us the wonder of the very world around us as they find excitement in things we had foolishly taken for granted after far too long. They ask 'why' in questions related to everything they encounter and are never settled with a mere answer of 'because.' They seek to explore the limits of themselves, not even acknowledging any until their parents most often place them upon them in fear of their child getting hurt. They fear almost nothing until experience teaches them otherwise, and love unconditionally those around them never asking if they should.

Baron Metus had called me an old man when we had met, but I had shrugged this comment off for I did not feel my age. I was, perhaps if not in my prime, not so far removed that I could not still make a good showing of it when called upon to do so. But now looking at my son, dead, I felt every day of my life as a brick that I carried and which weighed me down. My immortality and youth had been stripped from me by a single act of greed to possess what did not belong to another. I was old.

Erasmus put his arm around me in comfort and while I needed this, I could not help but note the cold touch of his flesh. I wept there for an hour or more the inconsolable tears of a terrified child for I had no answers for him, no means as a father to make this right once more. I begged him for his forgiveness for failing him as a father to protect him from such things and he gave it without question for that was the loving person that my son was.

But while I did not think I could feel any worse than I did this night, my own torments were still to come. After the hour of my sobbing Erasmus said he needed to ask a final favor of me. The tone of his voice was pleading, and so sorrowful that it wrenched the heart somehow still beating in my chest. I turned to him and spoke.

"My son please ask anything of me so that I can try to make some little thing right after failing you so badly with everything else." I tried for his sake to be strong, or at least strong enough for him to speak to like the father he remembered.

He seemed unable to speak though I sensed it was not from a lack of trusting me but rather and inability to give speech to things beyond his understanding. Finally he spoke softly once more, in obvious shame and embarrassment.

"I died last night father." Erasmus said not realizing the pain these words caused my soul. "But I rose this evening at the Baron's command. He said that it was the beginning of a new life for me, and that I would learn of many changes he had gifted me with providing that I loved him and never betrayed him." My son explained.

"Some of these 'gifts' I knew at one as if by instinct father." He continued. "I could hear rats scampering through the wall like soldiers marching on parade and I feel such strength in my muscles that I do not doubt I could now pin you down without much challenge were we to wrestle once more upon the floor." The memory of such activities that we two shared while Ingrid cheered us each on at times now brought pain. He had never beaten me in such tests, though in truth he was getting closer to doing so this summer and I knew in a year or so I would be the one to call uncle.

"But there are other 'gifts' father that scare me." He said with a shudder that I felt run through his body. "I feel a hunger inside of me that I have never before experienced." He explained.

"Hunger?" I asked not fully understanding what it was that he was trying to tell me.

"Yes!" He hissed. "For life father. For BLOOD!" The hint of glimmer in his eyes as he gave voice to this driving desire to feed as vampires are said to made me tremble in fear of my own son. Never had I seen even a hit of something so cold and malicious in his eyes and now I knew it was there lying just below the surface, begging to be released.

He pushed it back down and my son's body seemed more closely to resemble the person I was accustomed to rather than the beast he had been made into. He seemed to sense my relief though and made sure to keep the conversation on the track he had set.

"Do not find comfort father." He cautioned. "I am still able to control these needs but I can feel them building up ever stronger inside of me. Even now I hear the beating of your heart and the scent of your blood calling to me. I shall be able to resist this night, and perhaps tomorrow night as well, but I know that this need will not be so long denied. That is why I need you father, for only you can do what it is I ask."

"Whatever you need my son." I said without a hesitation. If he needed my blood then I would gladly give it to him for I had failed him in life. My heart, my body, even my soul was his if but chose to ask for it.

"I need you to kill me father." He said shocking me.

"I cannot!" I said. And this was true for while I could do or give anything to my son, I could not take anything more from him. I had learned I was capable of murder, but it had been tied to hatred and rage, two emotions I could never feel when I looked at my son.

"I am afraid father." Erasmus said. "I feel my bonds with you and the living slipping away with each moment that passes. I am becoming more like the Baron. Soon I will feed upon the living like he des, perhaps I will create others like me. Father after all you taught me about good and evil I cannot become like him."

He pulled a crude wooden stake and a mallet from inside his clothing and dropped them in front of me. "Please father." He begged again. "You are the only one who can save my soul."

I know not if anyone who reads this can truly understand the torment that such a request created for me. My son was dead, of that my mind could not deny, though here he was still beside me, speaking to me much like he had only two days earlier. Could I find the strength within myself to do what he asked of me? How could I ever live with myself if I did?

And yet how could I not? Could I allow my own weaknesses of self image to hurt my son any more than they already had? Could I damn him to an eternity of torment and taking lives of others? Could I surrender my own son's soul to such darkness and evil.

He said nothing as I thought through my deliberations until finally I looked up into his eyes, eyes that now were ore pleading than the dark and evil ones I had first seen. I could not form the words to answer him so instead I merely nodded in agreement.

"We will wait until dawn." Erasmus said sensing that I was not ready to say goodbye yet. I merely nodded and we sat back once more beside one another as the moon sank toward the distant horizon.

We talked that night over many things, the joyous times we had shared together and all the happy memories that came with them. He had me relate for him all the stories of ghostly encounters in my youth, surprisingly still as skeptical about some aspects of them even though his own existence now seemed to lend credence to my claims.

He regretted that he would not be able to tell his mother how much he loved her and I promised that I would do so and that of course he should understand that in her heart she knew this always.

These last few hours of the night seemed to rush by far too quickly until at last Erasmus Van Richten told me it was time. He handed me the stake and mallet and lay back upon the grassy hill where we talked among a patch of wild flowers that grew in this meadow. Our gazes met, father and son, for one last time and I could see in his eyes that not only had he forgiven me, in truth he had never laid any blame for these events upon my shoulders. He then closed his eyes and composed himself as if to sleep.

I placed the stake above his heart and readied the mallet. I am not a strong man so I could not look upon what I was doing. Nor could I deny my son's request. I closed my eyes and brought the mallet crashing down upon the stake feel it sink into the flesh beneath me.

Erasmus spoke not a word nor even tried to move and resist for I think the first blow had freed him from his torment. But still I struck again and again driving the wood down through his body and into the soil beneath until only a finger's width lay exposed.

With each blow though I felt as if they stake were driving into my own hear by the agony this produced for me. In truth it was for Erasmus was ever a part of me and now I was forever destroying this part.

By then the sky to the east was bright and the sun was only moments away but still I could hear an immortal cry of loss come from within the manor. I knew that Baron Metus had felt my boy's passing as I myself had, and in his own twisted way, he felt the loss as much as I did.

I lay down upon the grass next to my son and wept once more until the tears would no longer come. At that point I felt the touch of the first rays of dawn wash across my face and my eyes opened to see how this light turned the last remains of my Erasmus to a pile of fine gray ash that with the soft breeze running across the meadow I knew would soon be no more.

It would have been simplicity itself for me to stay there beside where my son had been until I died as well. Part of me wanted to do just that. Death did not seem so horrible at that moment if I could just be released from the pain that I was feeling.

But I knew that my pain was shared by others and especially Ingrid who would be sick with worry. I had to return to her and tell all that had happened to her child so that she would know in her heart that his soul at least rested with the gods.

It was only because of her that I found the strength to fin my feet once more and began to travel back along the very same road I had walked just yesterday. The village would be my first stop, both for supplies and perhaps for a horse, if a good reliable animal could be found. I thought longingly of Tasha now likely food for crows.

Even with a horse my trip home would take at least a week providing I did not fall victim to some dark or evil thing on my return trip. Of course I had no access to the Vistani and their ability to walk the mists. Not only would they likely kill me for the deaths of their own I had caused, but I could not find the will within me to forgive them enough to ask for such a boon even though I knew without it was to add more tortures to Ingrid.

The Burgomaster provided me with what aid her could, surprised that by the Baron's ring I now could speak his language fluently. I wondered if this magic would wear off over time but somehow I knew it would not, that I had been granted understanding of this language as well as I knew my own and could even think in it if I so chose.

Horses were rare in Krezk so I was forced to leave town before noon without one. I was told if my steps were sturdy I could make the town of Levkarest in neighboring Borca before nightfall. While he did not ask, and I did not tell, he seemed to sense that my presence in this land was likely not to be welcome. Hopefully Levkarest would be able to supply me with transport or a horse back to my destination.

As I left the village heading to the west one of the village mutts, a small scruffy animal who saw me eating another meal ran and barked at me as if to play but in truth seeking a meal. Since the food was tasteless to me, other than the abundance of garlic, I tossed it to him which only succeeded in him following me for half a mile of so more.

This image though struck a chord of memory in me that I had not thought of in a long time. I was at once a man out on a long stroll with a dog playing around my feet, the very image of the card that I had pulled from the tarot deck twenty four years earlier. I thought on that moment as I walked and nodded my head in agreement. If ever there was anyone so deserving of a title certainly it was me. I was without a doubt The Fool.


End file.
